


Tea, Coffee, or Captain America?

by jmcats



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, ComicBook AU, M/M, Ziam AU, ziam, ziam smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 61,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmcats/pseuds/jmcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a little used bookshop -- that also sells comic books, DVD's, vinyl, but Liam knew a long time ago that it was so much more to him.  This city was much more to him.  His best mates Louis and Zayn (<i>especially Zayn</i>) were much more to him.  And this just might be a story where Louis likes torturing the new guy Harry Styles, Harry likes lollipops, Niall likes everyone, Zayn likes being around Liam, and Liam likes comic books.</p>
<p>"And somewhere, when he didn’t expect it, they all decided that this little city wasn’t so bad after all.  No, it was good enough for Louis to stick around, for Niall to find his place, for Harry to be himself, for Zayn to finally fall in love, and for Liam to never regret sticking around when his parents moved away."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea, Coffee, or Captain America?

**Author's Note:**

> A little idea about Louis, Zayn, and Liam being best mates and working at a comic book shop turned into a little story about five friends with no goals in life figuring it all out together. I really let my inner comic book geek out with this one (hopefully people recognize some of the things I write in here) and I think it's a bit all over the place with the crackiness I put in there, but I'm hoping the Zayn/Liam bits make up for all the other stuff. I think it's pretty good, at least, I enjoyed writing this whole thing so much :)
> 
> A big thanks to [Eszter](http://zaynile.tumblr.com) for giving me motivation when I was stuck in the beginning of this fic! Love her. And to my idols Caitlin, Safaa, and Clare because, wow, they're amazing.
> 
> Oh, and there's tons of swearing, a little drug use, some smut toward the end, so this is my fair warning. Please, enjoy?

_“No matter where this life takes you, my love, there will always be someone in this world who loves you more than your imagination will allow you to understand.  You’re never quite alone.”_   Sage words from Karen Payne.

But Liam thinks, sometimes his mum was wrong.  He always feels alone when he’s in Manchester Airport.  Not that he should because, even late in the evening, it’s always crowded with unfamiliar faces, stuttering noises, shouts of welcoming and a few whimpered farewells.  It’s dizzying, really, the way he’s grown accustom to all of it since the age of fifteen but, still, it sticks to his skin in that awful way when you’re home alone with nothing but the sound of the crickets outside of your bedroom window.

The shuffle, the mass of moving bodies in one of those streaking blurs that flicker past the eye, the tears shed in warm embraces, the falling faces as fingers separate toward another terminal – he knows each feeling so loudly in the back of his mind that it’s become a bit numbing.

_“Flight 1520 from Madrid…”_

_“Now arriving…”_

_“Final boarding call for Flight 601 to…”_

The same dull tone flickers in and out of his mind as he waits.  He only knows this feeling twice a year – once during the holidays when he’s saved up enough money throughout the year and that’s an expected feeling because something turns in his stomach, something like anticipation, as he departs.  The other time comes every May when his mum calls him daily, excitement bustling through her voice, and he always chews on a smile because he knows what that means – a month in America, with his parents, away from everything that he enjoys most about Wolverhampton and the city he’s known as his home since he was an infant.

He still remembers the conversation, well actually more of his father _telling_ him rather than discussing anything, between he and his father when he was fourteen – “I’m retiring, son.  I’ve been at it for too long and your mum and me would like to start over.  Somewhere else.  We’re moving to America and, if you’d like, we’d love for you to come with us.”  He remembers sitting on the edge of his bed, his father across from him in that old chair he’s had since he was ten that still creaks when you out too much pressure on it.  And he nodded along, chewing on his bottom lip until it hurt, careful not to blink too hard or the tears sticking to his eyelids would fall.  He didn’t cry in front of his father, _ever_.  It was a sin, really, because his father had raised him to be every bit of a man that you could be.

It was like his father was telling him he and his mum were getting a divorce – well, maybe not _that_ serious, but it felt that way to Liam.  They wanted to move, leave everything Liam has ever known, drag Liam along as if that one little desire he had to visit America, not _move_ , when he was eight still stuck to him.  But it wasn’t.

And he pleaded with his mum for hours as she took him around the city to buy new school clothes not to leave but she smiled at him, patting his shoulder before rubbing at her eyes – those tears were thicker than Liam’s but she never let them slather her cheeks – before she was saying, “I knew it was a bit much of him to ask you, which is why I asked Nicola and Ruth to look after you when we leave.”

His sisters were much older, Ruth already moving out to attend Uni while Nicola was nearly forced out of the University of Wolverhampton months ago for partying a bit too much – “I mean honestly, mum, it’s not as if it’s _illegal_ to enjoy a few shots of vodka and some Red Bull after studies.” “Nicola, you were taking shots inside of your Foreign Studies classroom, on a _Tuesday_ , with _six_ of your classmates and a foreign exchange student.  Did you honestly think the head of the English department would find that okay?” – and so Nicola took on two jobs, one at a supermarket while the other was a bartending gig during the week, which Liam thought was pretty brilliant and suited his sister’s goals in life: drinking and making a few quid while doing it.  But Ruth was living with her boyfriend Martin at the time, Nicola crashing on their couch, so there was a spare room that Liam would move into while his parents packed up everything from that old house Liam had lived in since he learned how to walk.

Some days, it felt like Liam was learning to walk all over again, in a place he thought he knew how to do everything else in long ago.

He’s never minded the month he spent in America; Georgia actually because his parents wanted to move to some bright and beautiful city like Savannah that had long stretches of green fields, immaculate weather even during some of the colder months, and the city was so vastly different from everywhere else because parts of it still had a British feel to it with its town-like atmosphere and pubs littering some of the streets.  And it felt like Dublin to them in March, the streets crowded with people who drank green beer – “Which is just as disgusting as regular beer, except a bit more colorful,” he once told one of his mates – and his parents fit in so easily into a place that felt so foreign to him.  And he didn’t blame his parents for wanting the sunshine rather than cloudy gray skies that Wolverhampton always offered.  He understood the need to bask in the all too warm heat rather than the sticky, cold air and what was left for them to like about Wolverhampton after their children had grown older?

Even Liam felt that way sometimes, not that he voiced it to anyone.  It wasn’t as if he truly fit in to any particular group of people when he was younger, following his sister Ruth around almost everywhere until she tired of him carrying that silly Woody toy with him while trying to fit in with her friends.  And, even now, the month-long trip to America seems like an escape from the reality that he’s nineteen, far from overpopulated in the friends department, finishing his first year at Uni, and still as out of place in a place he calls home.

“Liam Payne, get your fit arse over here before I make a mockery of you!”

_Too late_ , Liam thinks, but he can’t help the smile that spreads over his pink, almost ruddy lips when he spins on his heels, adjusting the strap of the heavy bag on his shoulder, and blinks at Louis.

Louis Tomlinson has been Liam’s best mate since he was six and Louis was a self-righteous eight year old who ruled all the kids on their street with his nose turned up, hands on his hips, and a voice that echoed down the busiest of streets.  He’s all silver-blue eyes, perked up smile that hid nothing, tight trousers, and the kind of air about himself that told anyone he was better than you, not that he tried to be.  He was far from shallow and, if Liam had to guess, Louis’ cockiness was a product of his parents being every bit of wealthy and posh like some of those families Liam watched on the telly rather than Louis being overly sure of himself.  In fact, in the quietest of moments, Louis was as vulnerable and kind as Liam was.

Those quiet moments happened about as much as a shooting star streaking the sky, though, so Liam spent more of their friendship defending Louis to others rather than anyone actually seeing how brilliant the guy truly was.

Liam moves toward Louis before the smaller boy can charge him because, he knows Louis too well, and making a scene in a crowded airport is definitely the kind of theatrics Louis gets into.  He sort of drags his other bag toward Louis as the grin on Louis’ face quirks up, bright eyes going wider with excitement before Liam’s right in front of Louis, letting Louis swallow him up in a hug that’s just a bit too tight but it’s warm.  Liam’s hugging him back as if they haven’t done this every time Liam comes back from America.

“Christ, you look good,” Louis says with a heavy exhale when he pulls back, eyes roaming over Liam until he turns a faint pink, pushing Louis back.  “Seriously.  If I wasn’t so involved in a relationship – “

“A relationship?” Liam asks, thick eyebrow lifting.

“With myself, of course,” Louis replies with an eye roll as if it was devastatingly apparent that Louis Tomlinson couldn’t love or stand to be with anyone other than himself.  Actually, that probably was true.

“Of course,” Liam repeats with a small smile, shrugging completely out of Louis’ embrace.

“Like I was saying,” Louis adds with a lick of his tongue, running his hand over Liam’s buzzed head.  Liam cuts it every year because it’s far too hot in Georgia to have those thick curls that grow in every winter when Liam’s too lazy to do anything with his hair other than cover it up with a beanie or one of those silly, furry animal hats Louis despises.  Louis pulls back with a grin before saying, “You look fit, mate.  You’ve gotten bigger, more muscle.  Completely fuckable.  And, Jesus H. Christ, I’m jealous of your tan.  The sun does you well.”

Liam drags his hand over the nape of his neck, offering Louis a small smile while that pink blush continues to bite at his cheeks.  He hates how shy he gets when someone compliments him.  It’s probably one of the reasons he never did well with girlfriends, or those few cute guys who hit on him when Louis drug him out to some silly party where everyone was drunk – it’s the thing to do in a city this boring – and he wishes he had more confidence about the way he looks but he sort of hates how plain his brown eyes are, the way his nose feels too big, the fact that his lips are soft-looking, and as much effort as he puts into his body, it never looks natural to him.  Yeah, completely out of place.

“If you weren’t my best mate – “

“And I am,” Liam reminds him because he can see that look in Louis’ eyes – There’s no one who couldn’t tell Liam Louis wasn’t related to Satan.  He just, well, he was.

Louis rolls his eyes again before dropping a hand on Liam’s shoulder, “I’d definitely fancy you.”  Louis huffs out an exhale when an older woman with stringy blonde hair, tiny blue eyes, and a curl to her lip glares at them, but Louis’ leaning closer to Liam to give her a show before whispering, “I mean I’d wreck you, Li.  Fuck you sideways and all.  _If_ I wasn’t your best mate, that is.”

Liam jerks back, balking at Louis who’s grinning like he’s accomplished something major by making Liam’s cheeks a shade painfully red like blood smeared against his cheeks.  He punches at Louis shoulder, something Louis yelps at and he’s rubbing at his shoulder, looking wounded until Liam sighs and draws him in for another hug.

Louis’ the sort of guy who’s always enjoyed the company of men, quite a few women too, and he’s never hidden it from Liam.  Not when he kissed his first guy at twelve – _“His tongue tasted like mint chocolate chip ice cream and orange juice.  It was awful.”_ – or when he had sex for the first time at seventeen – _“She was such a lazy fuck.  She just_ laid _there.”_   And then when he had sex for the first time with a guy, again, at seventeen – _“He was_ amazing _.  A bit cheesy because he wanted to listen to Coldplay while I fucked him, but the things he did with his tongue…”_ – he had Liam blushing a rather bright shade of rose and, even though it was Louis, who spared no details, he couldn’t help the way he had to stuff one of his pillows over his crotch to cover his erection while Louis recounted every moment of it like a play-by-play from a major football game.  Louis just laid there, on his back on Liam’s bed, staring up at the ceiling that still had those silly _Batman Returns_ and _Thor_ posters on it with his hair completely wrecked, cheeks flushed, a sticking scent of another man’s cologne against his skin, and dazed blue eyes that seemed glossed over with amazement.

Liam might’ve decided that same year he was more into boys than all of the silly crushes he had on girls but, unlike Louis’, he had a reason for that.  A very distinct reason that always made Liam long for his return home every time he went to visit his parents.  But he wasn’t thinking about that now, not when he was too knackered from the flight and just wanted to fall into his bed and sleep away that uncomfortable sensation of being stuck on an airplane for too many hours.

“Can we go home now?” Liam asks through a sigh, adjusting his bag again.

Louis gives him a long look, gentling a comforting smile against his lips before rubbing a kind hand against Liam’s cheek.  He gives Liam a small nod, adding, “You look beat.”

“I am.”

“And you look in need of a good fuck too,” Louis pushes out with a laugh, smacking Liam playfully.

Liam groans lowly, inching away from Louis.  Really, the looks they were getting were more than a little unsettling now.

“I don’t need – “

“Right, right.  Still the ever virgin, I see,” Louis sighs out, trying to lift Liam’s bag but it’s far too heavy for his smaller frame and he sort of tugs it along the ground the way Liam did.

“You make it sound like a bad thing that I haven’t chosen to fuck nearly everyone in this city,” Liam notes as they walk through the terminal, ignoring the few glances he gets to watch Louis foolishly try to lift Liam’s bag again before kicking at it.

“I mean, come on Li, you’re _nineteen_ now.  Getting laid or at least a good blowjob every now and then isn’t the worst thing you could do,” Louis fusses, sounding every bit exasperated and Liam’s not sure if it’s because of annoyance or trying to drag his bag.  He doesn’t care either way.

“I’ve gotten a blowjob before,” Liam argues lowly, brow knit together with frustration.

It’s true.  A bad, sloppy, drunken blowjob from Jesy who wasn’t as much the school slut as the one that everyone knew they could have a piece of when she wasn’t sober.  And he had to scurry into the bathroom to wank himself off when she actually passed out mid-suck and it was all quite embarrassing, but not nearly as embarrassing when he repeated it all to Louis who laughed like he’d never heard anything funnier in his life.

“She doesn’t count,” Louis states firmly, hands on his hips.

“In the same way that Dominic doesn’t count for you?” Liam questions, a smooth grin chasing his words when Louis balks at him.

“He doesn’t,” Louis snaps, hand on his chest as if he’s offended.  “He was just, well, he was just plain bad.  No other way around it.  And the guy fucking moaned like a girl.  He peed the bed instead of coming, Liam, I mean honestly.”

Liam wrinkles his face, regrets even bringing the guy up because, yeah, Liam still hated that story.  Fucking gross, even if he didn’t tell Louis that night because the poor guy was crying his eyes out.  Still, it was rather funny.

Liam tosses an arm around Louis’ shoulder with a smirk, helping him to lift the bag this time.  “Just admit it, Lou.  Our sex lives suck.”

“Speak for yourself,” Louis says with an offended tone.  “Just got laid last night.  She was brilliant.  And I think I’ve got a date with her younger brother next weekend.”

Liam’s eyes go wide but, really, he doesn’t expect anything less from Louis.  Nope, not one bit.

**

Liam moved in with Louis two years after his parents had left.  Martin had proposed to Ruth and Nicola had longed moved in with some chap – _Steve_ or _Doug_ or _Carter?_ – that she was sort of dating when she wasn’t busy doing whatever it was his sister did when it came to relationships.  He knew Ruth wanted a family, a life of her own, and having her younger brother dot around her wasn’t exactly something they both thought was plausible.

But Louis offered, made a grand spectacle of the whole matter because Louis liked doing things like that, and Louis’ flat truly was nice.  It was large and spacious, much bigger than Ruth and Martin’s, and Louis’ parents paid the rent because he was some sort of genius, or truly artful cheater, in school so Louis only asked Liam to pay a few of the utilities.  Louis spared no expense to make sure it was properly furnished with one of those unnecessarily large flat screens in the living area, cream and black furniture littering the room with a large glass dining table, burnt sierra coffee table in front of the couch, a nice sound system, artwork hanging from the walls that Louis tried to explain but sounded completely daft while doing so, and the kind of kitchen someone could fall in love with if they knew how to cook.  Unfortunately, neither Louis nor Liam could so it was full of takeaway boxes and whatever either could heat up in the oven when they were desperate.

Liam’s room was plain, sort of like him, with just a bed, a small nightstand, a dresser to accompany the closet, and the barely-together computer desk he’s had since he was a kid, plagued with comic books, graphic novels, and a laptop that had a silly Batman emblem sticker on it.  He had the small television Nicola and Ruth saved up to get him last Christmas and a small collection of DVD’s around it.  It was nothing compared to Louis’ room which was a large bed, two end tables, more artwork, and a telly that nearly rivaled the one in the living area.  He had one of those walk-in closets that was as grand as the ones he’d seen on television but it housed the mini-market that was Louis’ wardrobe.  And while Liam’s film collection consisted of every Batman film ever made, Louis was more romantic comedies and porn – there was definitely more _Cocks and Robbers_ than Reese Witherspoon in that collection.

Louis makes them tea while Liam shovels all of his things into his room – the room that looks unlived in for the past month, though Liam’s rather certain it always looks that way, trip to America or not.  Louis always makes his tea a bit on the sweet side with honey, lemon, a squeeze of an orange for some reason, and heavy cream which mutes out the sting of the natural herbs in it.  But he leaves Liam’s tea alone with just a squeeze of lemon and honey.  They settle onto the couch, Louis curled up next to Liam and Liam merely grins, sliding an arm around Louis’ shoulders while Louis hums sweetly.  If they were anything other than friends, this would look questionable, but they’re not and Liam doesn’t really care if anyone thinks otherwise.

“Place has been rather dull without you around,” Louis notes, sipping loudly on his tea.  “The shop too, though that’s nothing new.”

“Hmm.” Liam hums his response, letting the hot sting of the tea curl down his throat.  The tea in America is never as tasty as this.

“Who would’ve thought that you, of all people, could make some silly bookstore – “

“Comic book shop,” Liam inserts with a small smile when Louis gives out an annoyed sigh.

“Some silly _bookstore_ that sells comic books and all sorts of other shit,” Louis corrects, another slurp of his tea following, “more interesting.  We need a better job.”

Liam rolls his eyes, breathing in the steam and the acid from the lemon before sipping at it.

They’ve worked at the Book Nook since he was sixteen, Louis eighteen, and Liam had fallen in love with the place after his second day.  Paul, the owner, was intimidating to look at but he was really all deathly glares when you messed up and kind words the rest of the time.  He took Louis and Liam on after Liam spent one too many days rifling through all of the old comic books in search of some silly Batman novel – Not silly to Liam though because, who doesn’t need their own copy of _a Death in the Family_? – and he paid them generously even though the shop didn’t make all that much money and Louis was only there for Liam’s sake.  Liam wonders if Louis has ever even read an entire book not assigned to him in school, let alone a comic.

But the place was large to be a used bookstore, with rows and rows of old books that were stacked sideways and vertically and it had its very own corner just for the comics that Liam huddled in for hours, whether he was scheduled for a shift or not.  Plus it sold old vinyl, used DVD’s, CD’s, and all sorts of other media because when Paul started the place, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted.  And it drew in a nice crowd, mainly Uni students looking for cheap books for class and the occasional loner who preferred reading over all the other luxuries the town offered like pubs, nice places to eat, and a few hip shops that Louis ventured into on his off days.  But, all in all, Liam knew it wasn’t the most ideal job for someone his age.  It definitely wasn’t the most ace either, but he figured in a place like this, why not?

“Paul finally hired a new guy to cover your shifts while you were gone,” Louis says lowly like he’s thinking about taking the words back.

Liam’s brow lifts, glancing down at Louis who refuses to look up, his finger circling the lip of his cup.

“He’s staying even though you’re back,” Louis adds, clearing his throat.  “Paul says we could use some extra hands around.  In fact, he even hired another guy two weeks ago.  Some kid with curly hair, stupid dimples, but the most amazing green eyes you’ve ever seen.”

Liam snorts, dragging his fingers through Louis’ stiff brown hair.  He always uses too much product.

“Fancy him much?” Liam wonders with a grin.

Louis scoffs, pulling his head from Liam’s fingers.  “Not even.  He’s a prick, at least he acts that way.  Some hipster douche.”

Liam hums again, eyes glancing over to the telly that’s playing _Sweet Home Alabama_.  He yawns softly, leaning his head against Louis’.

“Not my type either.  He’s tall but a bit too skinny.  Also, he smiles too much.  Cheeky sort of guy,” Louis mutters and Liam can feel his scowl in the way his words curl.  “Probably completely daft.  I don’t talk to him but I watch.”

“I bet you do,” Liam snickers quietly, wincing when Louis pinches his thigh a little too sharply.

“Nice arse.  His pants are impossibly tight.”

“Lou,” Liam sighs, listens as Louis adds softly, “I wonder if those lips are soft.  Probably could give an amazing blowjob with the way he talks.”

“And the _other_ guy,” Liam says sharply, trying to avoid anything that has to do with Louis and another possible incident with a coworker – They’ve already lived that story with Aiden and, without question, they’d both agree that didn’t go over too well with Paul.

“Sweet kid.  Nice smile.  A bit too silly at times,” Louis explains, swallowing down a healthy portion of his tea while Liam continues to savor his.  “Irish lad.  From Mullingar, I think.  His name is Niall, and yes, it’s as off as it sounds.  But I don’t know, I sort of like him.  Zayn does too.”

Liam nods along, tries not to tense at the name.  His eyes slip shut, far too many thoughts drifting that way and he has to curt them, push them aside to listen to Louis.

“Remember Gemma?  Sweet girl who went to Uni with Ruth?  Great dimples and was always so polite even though I was shit at finding the books she needed for class?” Louis asks, head tilting back some and Liam pulls back to look into his eyes, bites at his bottom lip before nodding slowly.

He vaguely remembers her from last summer.  She was gorgeous, honestly, with her green eyes, arched eyebrow when she was intrigued, slight bend to her cheeks when she was smiling like dimples were there but not.  She always troubled Louis for help because Liam was too busy explaining the differences between Marvel and DC to some snotty kid with glasses and braces and why Liam spent so much of his time arguing with thirteen year olds about Batman’s superiority to that trivial twit Wolverine he never quite got, but Gemma would laugh behind her hand before dragging Louis around the store to find the books she needed for class.  And he thinks she dated Greg for a while, always so soft and delicate but impossibly sarcastic with her jokes that Greg never got but Liam smiled at.  She was so much better than anything this town had to offer and he knew it.  But she never acted that way, not like Louis did on most occasions.

“What about her?”

Louis sighs loudly, chin dropping.  “New kid is her baby brother.  Nothing like her, I swear.  He’s a little shit.”

“You like him,” Liam asserts, smirks when Louis wrinkles his nose but his cheeks are telling a different story with their blush.

“He’s fucking _seventeen_ , Li.  Or eighteen, I don’t know.  He’s a twit,” Louis hisses.

Liam draws out a smile around the edge of his cup with his lips, eyebrows waggling.

“So you want to take his innocence?” Liam teases, nearly drops his cup when Louis shivers under him.

“For fuck’s sake, Liam, I wouldn’t even dare ask the kid for a wank.  In fact, Harry Styles – “

“Harry,” Liam says slowly, dragging it out until Louis scowls at him.  He nods with a laugh, “Harry Styles, yeah?”

“Are you quite finished?” Louis says with a sharpness to his tongue.

Liam offers him a small shrug, snorts before taking another gingerly sip of his tea as if to say _“continue.”_

“Harry Styles won’t last long at the shop, mark my words.  Kid’s not fit for the place,” Louis declares with pursed lips.

“Neither are you,” Liam notes lowly.

“Yes, well,” Louis pauses, thinking a bit too hard before he’s waving his hand around dramatically, “Oh, fuck off.”

Liam smirks, sinks deeper into the cushions of the couch and lets Louis go on about needing help organizing all of the new comics before the Tuesday rush comes in and Louis has to deal with, _“all the little punks that want the newest issue of_ X-Men _or_ Uncanny X-Men _or, shit, why does there have to many different types of_ X-Men _?”_ He quirks up a grin while Louis chats about Eleanor, how he’s considering asking her on a date even though that relationship has been over since Louis was seventeen and sort of cheating on her with that annoying Uni guy with the sharp blue eyes, curve to his smile, and _“possibly the biggest waste of a tongue ring ever_ ” – Louis words, not Liam’s.  Liam doesn’t tell Louis it’s a bad idea, knows it wouldn’t matter once Louis gets his mind set on something but, he thinks, it’s probably Louis’ way of avoiding the fact that he might be a bit into this Harry Styles kid.  Louis does things like that; dates everyone other than the guy he’s actually interested in because Louis’ never been a good judge of character, or of the things he truly needs in life.

He slides away from the couch when Louis falls asleep during a rerun of _Doctor Who_ that Liam’s seen enough times to know where it’s all heading.  He toes off his shoes by the door before walking softly into his room, shoulders slumped and every bit of exhaustion he was fighting earlier takes over.  He heads for the dresser, peeling off his shirt and dropping it on a corner of his bed before pulling open the top drawer and finding his stash of Hershey’s minis from a few months back when Louis was gutted over some breakup with a guy he dated for three weeks and Liam was too depressed over – no, he doesn’t want to go _there_ – that they both needed something to make them feel better.  He pops one in his mouth after removing the wrapping, the smooth slide of thick sweetness calming him before he snatches up his worn copy of _the Death of Superman_ – no one could ever tell him it wasn’t one of the greatest stories written, no matter how old it was.  He settles onto his bed, barely making it through Doomsday smashing Guy Gardner’s face into the ground before he’s yawning, eyes far too heavy to do anything but stretch out comfortably while letting the thick, warm June air settle around his skin.

He shoots his mum a quick text because he knows she’ll worry otherwise and he’s not in the mood for a thirty minute phone call about things like that before rolling to his stomach and settling his head against one of his pillows.  He breathes in the scent, fresh ivory like it’s just been washed though he knows it’s more so because he hasn’t laid his head there in too long rather than Louis doing laundry because Louis didn’t do things like that.  He thinks about sending another text, scrolls all the way to the end of his contacts and his thumb itches to do something other than glide over the name but he doesn’t.  It’s not that he doesn’t have the strength, though he sort of doesn’t, but his nerves get the best of him and the way his teeth are worrying his bottom lip is a direct signal that he needs sleep rather than those tingling butterflies he knows he’ll get the minute he gets a response from his text.

Liam smiles into his pillow, eyes shifting shut and he doesn’t mean to, but his dreams are thick with thoughts of dark hair, honey-olive shaded eyes, a sideways smile, and the smell of cigarettes masked by the scent of minty mouthwash.

**

The Book Nook is lodged into the center of a square that isn’t too far from their flat.  It’s close enough that, when the weather is on the right side of warm and not too windy, Liam can jog there in the mornings.  He does, some days, when Louis’ in a shit mood or too hung-over from the night before to drive him.  He likes the pull on his muscles, the way he breaks a thin layer of sweat over his skin, his thighs aching just a little bit from the exertion and it makes him long for those days when he ran cross country in junior school, giving it up in secondary school because he had to put too much focus on his studies just to pass his classes.

Liam mostly opens the shop in the mornings, probably because out of all of them, he’s the one who likes mornings most and isn’t a complete dick to the customers who show up extra early to find that book they’ve been searching ages for or that new comic book that’s the continuation of the best series they flipped through in years.  Liam knows that feeling, the way he’d plead with his father almost weekly until his father would be there at the kitchen table, way too early in the morning for most parents, with his head tipped back, a fresh pot of coffee on, yawning until Liam came rushing down the steps with a brighter than a galaxy of stars smile on his face.  And his father would pat his head, smile begrudgingly as he palmed his keys and opened the back door for Liam to rush out of toward his father’s truck.

There’s a pizzeria next door, the kind that makes those large and authentic Italian pizzas, where the oil drips from the cheese and it takes more than five minutes just to make it through one slice.  Mark’s Guitars is two shops down to the right and he can sometimes hear some kid trying their first strum of a guitar or some amateur trying their hand at a set of drums, nothing but clash and bang rather than something enjoyable.

To the left of the bookestore is a bridal shop, nothing big or fancy with vintage gowns in the window and some fairly kind woman, Danni, whose all warm smiles and black-framed glasses with the wrinkles showing around her eyes and mouth when she greets a customer, runs the place with her daughter, whose a bit older than Liam, with her hair always pushed up in a messy ponytail and she chews pink bubblegum like it’s the only thing she knows.  Just down from that shop is an empty store, once owned by a very eccentric man, Lee, who preferred everyone call him Storm Lee, something Louis would always take a piss at while Liam would smile because Lee was far from intimidated by the by the looks he got anytime he crossed into the square.  He carried that air of confidence that sometimes Liam wished he had, maybe without all of the dramatics, but still, he admired the fact that Lee just didn’t give a shit what the town thought about him.

At the very far corner was a coffee shop, Barlow’s, which by standards made decent coffee and tea.  Eleanor worked there and, when Louis was on lunch, he’d sit there with her for a while, chatting while she giggled along to everything he said.  Liam wonders sometimes do they remember that relationship so long ago, the one that nearly ripped Eleanor’s heart into shreds and the one he thinks Louis holds onto the most as if it was the one time he actually let someone into his heart.  He’s never been quite certain either way but Eleanor is a sweet girl with wavy brown hair, pushed up cheeks, doe brown eyes that are warm and welcoming every time he sees her and the kind of sassiness that Liam can appreciate when he needs a good laugh or someone to be completely upfront with him.

The thing about the bookshop is that they don’t exactly have any job duties.  They stock the inventory twice a week, Liam helping Paul with the comic book orders every Friday morning, but other than keeping the store organized and helping customers out here and there, none of them actually have responsibilities.  And Paul doesn’t have many rules outside of not falling asleep on your shift, helping every customer, and never missing a shift.  Oh, and that rule about not dating a fellow co-worker that was instituted thanks to the “Louis-Aiden Explosion of Last Summer,” as Paul deems it whenever it’s brought up.  It’s not that Paul is against any of them getting together but the incident between Aiden and Louis left them one short at the shop and, come on, it’s not as if kids are lined up around the corner to work at some used bookstore – that sells comics as well – in this town full of older people with established jobs and Uni students.

“This place is so _dull_ ,” Louis complains for the eighth time that morning, probably the thousandth time since they’d started working there.

Liam glances up from his comic, smiling softly before chewing on his thumbnail.  He’s huddled behind the counter, feet up on the edge of the counter with an older copy of _Teen Titans_ in his lap, thumbing through the pages as Louis hops onto the counter, feet dangling back and forth.

“You always say that when it’s slow,” Liam mutters with a chuckle, eyes dropping back down to the comic.

“And it’s _always_ slow,” Louis whines, head tipping back with his upper lip curled.  He drums his fingers on the counter, eyeing some Uni kid who’s actually wearing one of those vintage Star Trek uniforms like that sort of classic apparel is hip.  And its light blue like the one Spock wore, not that Louis knew that.

“Fucking bullshit,” Louis mumbles, eyes rolling when the bell sounds over the door as it opens.  He fakes a smile for the couple that walks in holding hands and giggling, waving a few fingers at them before turning back to Liam.  “We should get paid double for the shit we put up with here.”

Liam raises an eyebrow as if to say, _“You shouldn’t get paid anything because you don’t do anything,”_ but he simply lets the smile twitching at the corner of his lips push his round cheeks up before shaking his head at Louis, eyes lowering again.

“Oi, this place is a maze, mates.”

Liam’s head peeks up, catches that impossibly sunny smile spread across pink lips, blue eyes that rival Louis’ in their brilliance except they’re much kinder, insanely happy in a way that makes Liam just a bit uncomfortable.  He’s all pale skin, too bright blonde hair with a roundness to his face and a bit of clumsiness to his walk that Liam tries not to laugh at, but the kid really is a bit awkward.

He’d met Niall, his _“replacement,”_ as Louis calls him, or teases Liam about any chance he gets, before Louis had arrived that morning.  Turns out Liam is no longer the only person who actually likes mornings, shows up extra early before Paul gets there to open up and put up all the misplaced books Louis or Zayn are too lazy to put up themselves the night before.  Niall’s all large eyes, “pleased to meet you” grin on his lips with a handshake that’s firm but friendly when Liam opens up the doors and Liam tries not to like the kid so much but he’s so genuine and happy and, fuck, he’s sort of great because he doesn’t give Liam shit about the comics he reads or the fact that he vibrates energy the moment he steps back into the store.  No, Niall’s all grins, silly laughter that gets stuck in the back of Liam’s head, and humming happily to whatever music is thrumming from Mark’s Guitars even though it’s too early in the morning for that kind of rock music.

“Where’s the Science Fiction section again?” Niall asks, peeking around the stack of books in his arms and he’s looking more at Louis than Liam.

Louis shrugs roughly, leaning back on the counter with his head tipped back when one of the customer’s tries to get his attention.

Liam rolls his eyes, leaning forward to point to Niall’s right.  “Three aisles down next to the Mystery section.  Can’t miss it.”

Niall nods happily, blush settling on his cheeks when a redhead eyes him with her green eyes and batting lashes.  Niall nearly trips on his own feet as he ducks around the corner and Liam laughs behind his hand while Louis groans.

“Do you guys carry the latest edition of _X-Factor_ yet?” some blonde kid with small sea-like blue eyes and braces asks as he races up to the counter, sweat sticking threads of his hair to his forehead and his cheeks are a solid red like he’s run from the car all the way inside.

Liam tries not to make a face – he’s not a fan of the series, not the teen – but Louis’ moaning, leaping off the counter before pointing to the large shelves running the wall where all the newest comics are spread out.

“Somewhere, in there,” Louis sighs, waving his finger around like he’s giving the poor kid a proper direction to follow.

Liam grins, pushing himself out of his chair.  “Next to the other X-titles, chap.  Should be on the bottom shelves.”

“Right,” the blonde grins, dashing off before calling over his shoulder, “Thanks, mister.”

“Mister?” Liam says lowly, rubbing at the back of his head until the prickles of his buzzed hair tickle the pads of his fingers.

Louis lifts his brow, smile curling over his lips.  “That’s what happens when your life consists of silly comic books and no sex.  You get _old_.”

Liam flips him off, settling back into his chair while thumbing to the next page of his comic book.  He’s not old and he has sex.  Well, he doesn’t, but he could if he _needed_ to.  Which he doesn’t, except he might need to because his wrist is getting a bit sore from jerking off in the shower, or on his bed, every morning while Louis snores two doors down from him.

“Do you all carry anything by Stephenie Meyer?” an older man asks, head bowed like he’s ashamed and if there wasn’t already pink coloring his cheeks, Liam’s certain the incredulous look Louis shoots him would have him stumbling over his words much more than he is now.

Louis’ head snaps in Liam’s direction, mouthing _‘fucking bullshit’_ before he’s snapping his fingers, biting back a sigh as he points around the corner.  Liam’s lifting his comic, hiding his laughter and he knows Louis’ placing his hands on his hips, hears his foot tapping against the carpeted floor impatiently.

“Oh Ni,” Louis bellows, ignoring the glares he gets from the other customers.  “You’re needed upfront.”

It’s not that Louis is completely lazy, but he kind of is.  Or impatient.  Liam doesn’t exactly think customer service was the field of work Louis was built for, if he was built for any type of work that is.  He’s kind of rude, obnoxious, impatient in the worst way, and he’s not very good at putting up a chuffed face like Liam and Niall can.  No, he’s all scowls, pinched expressions, deep sighs, and stomping feet when he’s forced to deal with someone who isn’t the right side of attractive to distract Louis from the fact that he works in a bloody bookstore at the age of twenty-one with nothing to do in this town but read and drink, or go to University, which Louis does but not willingly.

Niall nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes to the front, dragging the back of his hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat and Louis’ grinning, patting his shoulder before spinning away to leave the man to Niall.  He gawks at Liam, wide-eyed and annoyed and Liam shakes his head, pushing up out of his chair when a line starts to form at the till.

“That guy was serious, right?” Louis whispers as he slides behind the counter, helping Liam bag up a few comics, grinning mercilessly at the Uni guy with the Spock uniform on as he hands Liam his copies of _Infinite Crisis_ and a few back issues of the _Age of Apocalypse_ series, Liam smiling at the guy because, yeah, he liked those comics too even though they were Marvel.

“I don’t know why Paul hasn’t fired you yet,” Liam chuckles, ringing up the redhead who purchases a copy of some Psychology book and a Fiona Apple CD – _Typical_ , Liam thinks – watches the way Louis leans in her direction with a smirk that says enough.

Louis’ fairly bad at flirting, in the most comical way, because he says all the wrong things or he’s terribly forward to the point he looks as if he wants to say, _“Yours or mine?  I get off at eight and you can get_ me _off by nine.”_   It usually leaves Louis’ victim blushing or flustered, but it’s effective enough that Liam has to slide his earbuds into his ears when Louis drags whatever guy, or girl, he’s trapped home and it’s all loud groans, the headboard smacking the wall, and Liam trying to remember where he left off in the latest edition of some Batman title he’s reading.

“Oh, brilliant,” Louis sighs, leaning on the counter as Liam checks out the last customer.  He shifts his eyes to the door, grinning before saying, “Look who’s decided to join us today.”

Liam lifts his eyes, searching the doors for something but then he catches it, the blur that skates by.  His breath catches a little, palms sweaty, and he can’t swallow though he’s trying desperately to.  No, he watches that blur wiz by again, the sound of wheels dragging on the sidewalk outside a clear indication of who it is.  He drags his hands over the counter, the squeak almost as loud as the way that skateboard bangs on the asphalt outside and Louis’ hopping on the counter again, a smile pushing up on his lips as he looks back on Liam like he’s getting a front row seat to something fantastic.

Liam feels the blush ripple through his cheeks, Louis’ stare thickening when the sound of the wheels on the pavement stops, and Liam can feel the thud of his heart in his ears now, his blood running incredibly hot underneath his skin.  When he does finally manage to swallow, the door of the bookshop fly open and Liam thinks it’s pretty silly, but Zayn Malik should come with his own theme song anytime he enters a room – _They’re gonna clean up your looks with all the lies in the book to make a citizen out of you._

The sun’s peeking through the gray clouds but it’s nothing compared to the way Zayn glows.  His hair is longer, thicker than it was last time Liam saw him.  It’s pulled up into a stiff quiff that swirls like black flames on his head with heavy, dark scruff running the length of his sharp jaw and chin, just along his upper lip.  There’s a sideways smirk over those pink lips, the ones that look almost chapped from the way Zayn bites at them but Liam wonders if maybe they’re much softer than they appear.  His tongue is pressing against his teeth, thick eyebrows set and his skin is the brilliant side of pale gold that Liam remembers so vividly.  His eyes, the ones Liam’s never been able to color because they’re brown and gold, sometimes olive-shaded and, when the sun hits them right, they’re that sweet shade of pure honey.  He’s all leather jacket, skateboard in one hand, with a Styrofoam cup from Barlow’s in the other, a smoothness to his walk that makes him much cooler than he really is.

Liam runs his tongue over his lips when Zayn moves around a few customers, dropping his skateboard next to Louis’ feet while ignoring the way Louis winks at him, eyes rolling before giving Louis a friendly shove – _Because the drugs never work. They’re gonna give you a smirk_.  He carefully shrugs out of his leather jacket because, honestly, it’s too hot for that but Zayn doesn’t give a shit, before tossing it behind the counter in that empty seat next to Liam.  Liam spots the new tattoos scattered amongst the old ones on Zayn’s forearm, the ones tracing his collar and chest when that thin shirt Zayn’s wearing shifts as he moves.

“Malik,” Louis sings out as Zayn slips behind the counter, “How I’ve missed you.”

“Bullshit,” Zayn snorts out, easing behind Liam’s chair to kick a few things around before holding out that steaming cup toward Liam.

Liam nervously reaches for it, hates the way his thick fingers slide over Zayn’s nimble fingers and there’s a heat rushing his cheeks when he looks up and catches the glow in Zayn’s brown, no, _caramel_ eyes.  He pulls back quickly, almost burns himself when the liquid sloshes out of the lid and blinks at Zayn, nodding his gratitude rather than speaking.

“Look what America decided to ship back to poor little Wolverhampton,” Zayn smirks out, leaning in a little closer and Liam breathes Zayn in – he’s kiwi-scented from that body wash, spicy cologne that Liam still remembers, and stale cigarettes, a scent that always clings to Zayn’s skin.

Liam tilts his head back, pushing out a fumbling smile as Zayn gets a little closer, hand on Liam’s shoulder for support.  Liam shudders at the way those fingers dig into his skin, small nails inching in.

“Missed you babe,” Zayn whispers with a grin, his eyes crinkling right around the edges, sideways smile tipping higher and Liam can’t breathe for just a second – _They say now teenagers scare the living shit out of me._

“Really?” Liam chokes out, fingers digging into the thigh of his jeans.

Zayn snorts with a small nod, pulling back before dragging a hand over Liam’s clipped hair.

“Of course,” Zayn says with a small laugh, nudging his knee against Liam’s propped up feet until he’s off balance in his chair.  “Being stuck with this little shit for a month is quite painful,” Zayn’s head jerking in Louis’ direction until Louis’ flipping him off, “and no one’s around to chat with me about Green Lantern and shit.”

Liam offers him a small nod, shrinking a little.  It was the sort of thing you said to a friend, which is what Liam was to Zayn – _a friend_.

The thing is, Liam’s been kind of in love with Zayn since they were in Year Ten when Zayn’s family moved from Bradford to Wolverhampton and all Liam can remember are hazel eyes, a shyness that came across endearing, soft black hair, and an accent far different from his with words that were more mumbled than spoken when Zayn first greeted Liam in the middle of some Literature class, asking for a pen.  He remembers the electricity that shifted up his spine, the way that smile Zayn gave him tickled along his nerves, the way Zayn noticed Liam’s Flash sticker on the back of his notebook and then it was all laughter, silly conversations in the middle of the halls, and camping out in each other’s rooms for hours while flipping through comics and talking about weird things like why Batman could beat Captain America in a one on one fight – Zayn still argues otherwise but Liam far more convincing with his words.

And Liam’s not really certain when all of those friendly touches, the stupid laughter, the way Zayn fell asleep on Liam’s shoulder or in his lap, in the crook of his neck whenever they stayed up way too late watching old Batman films started to make his skin warm, his heart hammer a little too loudly in his ears, his fingers itch to run along Zayn’s jaw or his bottom lip, but he felt them unquestionably anytime Zayn was around.  It made every time they shared a look, the way Zayn ran his fingers over Liam’s head – “I miss the curls, but you look real fit like this.” – the way Zayn whispers to him while Liam’s reading a comic as to not disturb him even though Liam would do just about anything to listen to Zayn talk, that much sweeter and that much harder for Liam to bare.

He’s pretty sure he’s done a good job at hiding it all, especially from Zayn even though Zayn catches him looking just a little too long at him, running his fingers nimbly over Zayn’s tattoos, or hanging on Zayn’s every word about who’s the better Green Lantern – Zayn’s feeble attempts at trying to argue that Kyle Rayner is better than Hal Jordan still make Liam smirk in the worst way.  But no one else really notices, no one except Louis who always shoots Liam a knowing look, a shit-eating grin like he’s got something over Liam, but he’s never malicious about it.  No, he might give Liam shit on his best day about it all but when it’s too much, when Liam’s curled up in his bed, clinging to that silly Woody toy like he’s five again, Louis slides into bed beside him and offers to find someone else for Liam because Zayn’s _“too stupid to recognize that daft bloke he’s on a date with right now is nothing compared to the daft bloke waiting for him right here.”_

Louis’ the best kind of friend those nights, even if he does dry Liam’s tears while telling him he’s an idiot for falling for someone like Zayn in the first place.

“Look you little prick, there is no way the Hulk is better than Spider-Man.”

Liam snaps from his thoughts, eyes going wide as he shifts to Louis who’s nearly red-faced while scowling at some kid who’s nearly half Louis’ side with his knuckles pressed to his hips while the little boy, who’s just as defiant with his chin tilted up and his tongue sticking out at Louis, shakes his head.

“Is _not_!”

“Are you kidding me?  Peter Parker is, well, he is,” Louis stutters out when the kid grins smugly.  Liam feels Zayn chuckle into his shoulder, hadn’t even realized when Zayn settled into the chair next to Liam, arm swung around Liam’s shoulder and, _fuck_ , it’s incredibly hot in here, now isn’t it?

“He’s just amazing,” Louis finally barks out, drawing eyes from passing customers but Louis and the kid are too far gone in their own little world to pay attention.

“You’re mental,” the kid snaps, that air of arrogance just as annoying as Louis’.

“Why you little – “

“ _Lou_ ,” Liam hisses and Louis snaps upright, pushing the beanie back on his head and Liam swears Louis has that look like he’s going to _kick_ the kid.  He doesn’t and Liam exhales a sigh of relief while Zayn rubs at his shoulder, making him tense up again but in a different way.

Louis rocks on his heels before spinning around, marching to the counter and resting his elbows on it.

Liam sighs out a smile, Louis biting out words that are probably far too inappropriate for someone that kid’s age to hear but Louis doesn’t seem to give a shit.  Liam takes a slow sip from the cup Zayn had given him earlier, the slow burn of tea coating his tongue and it’s just the way he likes it – lemon, honey, the slight spice of cinnamon – and Liam gives Zayn a soft smile, Zayn too focused on Louis to notice.

“You didn’t bring me any coffee Malik?” Louis frowns out, resting his chin on his knuckles.

Zayn rolls his eyes, feet kicking up on the counter and Liam feels their thighs pressed together, Zayn shifting even closer to thumb to the next page of Liam’s comic.

“No.”

“But you brought Liam tea,” Louis exhales, waving a hand at Liam who lifts his brow expectantly.

“Of course,” Zayn says as if it’s common knowledge to anyone but the three of them.  “He’s _Liam_.”

The thing is, Zayn does bring Louis coffee on some mornings, when he _feels_ like it.  He nearly always messes up Louis’ order though and Louis whines and complains until Zayn grumbles, snatching the coffee back and marching back to Barlow’s to get a fresh one that Liam swears Zayn’s considered throwing on Louis on more than one occasion.  But Zayn always brings Liam tea in the mornings.  Liam’s not certain why, doesn’t really question it when Zayn thrusts the cup at him with a grin, even when it’s way too early and Liam knows Zayn hates mornings, _passionately_.  Still, it’s always the right temperature, with the right ingredients, and it’s just another reason Liam offers Zayn a goofy grin and hates himself for falling for Zayn so fucking hard it hurts to breathe.

“And I’m _Louis_ ,” Louis says with a hiss.  “I deserve to be treated sweetly too.”

“What for?”

“Because you love me,” Louis declares, head cocking to the side.

Zayn lifts his eyes with his brow lowered, glaring at Louis because he knows Louis’ full of shit.  They all do.

“I don’t think your own mum loves you Lou,” Zayn says flatly, smirking when Liam breathes out a small giggle.

“Probably not, but she’s sort of a bitch anyway,” Louis replies with a small shrug of his shoulders, outlining the sharp, dark colors of the Nightwing poster Liam’s been meaning to hang up near the door.  “Besides, I’m never going to sleep with you if you don’t spoil me.”

Liam nearly chokes on his next sip, Zayn looking taken aback by Louis’ words and Louis’ shifting with that slick grin – fucking Satan, Liam knows it – like he’s won that battle.

“I don’t – “

“Honestly, Zayn, who doesn’t,” Louis sighs out, waving his hand around dramatically.

“I don’t,” Liam says firmly.

Louis rolls his eyes, flipping open a Tom Clancy novel sitting near the till.  “You don’t know how great sex is.”

Liam feels the blush rush his cheeks and he ducks his head to avoid that look he knows Zayn’s giving him.

“Besides Malik, there was that one time,” Louis starts with a smirk, eyeing Zayn until Zayn’s brow comes together, lips curling.

Liam’s head snaps in Zayn’s direction and Zayn’s throwing his hands up defensively, nearly knocking the cup from Liam’s hands.  This time it’s Zayn’s cheeks coloring, a soft pink that Liam knows would be hot under his fingertips, wonders if he could smudge the color away with his thumb… or his lips.

“There was never a time,” Zayn hisses toward Louis before looking at Liam as if to tell him the same thing, but a little softer.  “ _Ever_.”

Liam nods, Louis’ chuckling.  Liam knows Zayn’s telling the truth, can read it in his eyes though it wouldn’t matter much, right?  There’s nothing between Liam and Zayn but friendship, stupid comic books, and a silly crush that makes Liam feel like a sixteen year old again anytime Zayn smiles quietly at him.  It wasn’t as if Zayn didn’t have a sex life even though Liam’s consisted of nothing but desperate wanks with images of Zayn licking his lips slowly, those soft but strong hands, and those glittery brown eyes behind Liam’s eyelids just before he comes.

No, Zayn dated, fucked whomever he wanted though he didn’t boast as freely as Louis did about it.  But Liam knew.  There were the purplish bruises around Zayn’s collar, or the smudges of lipstick on his neck the next morning when Zayn stumbled into the shop.  There were nights where he smelled of cheap, flowery perfume when he stopped by their flat to watch a film or the way Zayn’s hair looked tangled and wrecked like some careless girl, or guy, had pulled on it while Zayn thrust deep in them until they came undone.  And there was always a faraway look in Zayn’s eyes, something Liam associated with guilt though Liam knew Zayn had nothing to feel guilty about.  Still, it sort of lingered in his eyes when Liam looked at him and then he was laughing it off, taking a piss at Louis before settling between them on the couch to watch _Inception_ again.

“Whatever,” Louis finally grumbles, turning away from them before leaning back against the counter, eyeing a toned guy, probably another University guy, with wide set shoulders and skin kissed by the sun, faint freckles on his cheeks with copper hair.  Liam snorts at the way Louis licks his lips before giving them a look over his shoulder, “Duty calls, lads.”

Zayn eases back into his chair, inching his arm back around Liam’s shoulders and Liam sighs pleasantly, stretching some before Zayn’s flicking the end of his nose.

“Checking him out?” Zayn questions, eyes narrowing but there’s a smirk on those pink lips.

Liam snorts, bats Zayn’s hand away.  “Not my type.”

“Good,” Zayn says lowly, like he means it, like there’s a slight curve of jealousy still brooding in his voice but Liam knows better.  What would Zayn want with someone as boring as Liam?  Or maybe he just wanted the guy for himself.

Liam drags his teeth along his bottom lip, watches Zayn wink at him before reaching under the till and pulling a copy of _Flashpoint_ from underneath a stack of books Louis’ probably shoved under there.  Liam smiles, wonders how Zayn hasn’t finished it yet even though he’s been reading it for nearly four months now.  But that was Zayn – he took his time reading, lingered on pages for too long, took in every aspect of anything he read until he could pinpoint every plot feature.  Liam never had that kind of patience, that sort of attention to detail and maybe that’s what always made Zayn a better student than Liam.

“Oi, this chap is looking for _Guardians of the Galaxy_?” Niall says when he rushes the counter, cheeks flushed and those flame blue eyes flicker like that of a dying candle, almost panicked.  Liam peeks upward, watches his knuckles turn even paler against the counter he’s gripping.

Zayn clears his throat, the smile on his lips flicking higher, brown eyes turning a dizzy sort of gold when he looks at Niall.  Liam’s stomach turns a sickening flip.

“Is that in the Science Fiction section?” Niall asks while scratching at his temple, looking shier than he did before.

Liam shakes a little, hears a terribly embarrassing groan at the back of his throat and he knows his eyes are broad when they look on Niall, his fingers crinkling the edges of the comic because, really, is this Niall kid for real?

Zayn chuckles lowly, slips his novel back under that space beneath the till before wiping his hand along his jeans and pushing out of his seat.  Liam tries not to study the way those tight black jeans grip at the back of Zayn’s thighs, how small Zayn’s legs still are even though Zayn usually skateboards to the store, sometimes rides his bike because Zayn was this kind of rebellious guy who wore leather jackets, smokes, drinks… and read comic books almost as much as Liam did.

“Come on Ni,” Liam tenses at the nickname, “We’ve got a lot to teach you about the magic of novels, bestsellers, and the wonders of Marvel Comics,” Zayn says, reaching across the counter to rub at Niall’s shoulder.  Again, Liam feels himself stiffen.

Niall nods happily, head leaning to the side like a young puppy and Liam cocks his eyebrow at him, still trying to decide if he really liked this guy.

Liam drops his feet to let Zayn scoot by, a wicked cold feeling tumbling over his skin once Zayn’s no longer sitting next to him, breathing in the same air as Liam, running idle hands over Liam’s thigh as he read or talked or did anything like Liam never notices the little touches, the quirks in his grin, the way his eyes kind of light up when Liam looks at him… the way those eyes lit up for Niall.

Liam’s a bit stunned when a sloppy kiss is pressed to his cheek, Zayn grinning as he pulls back, laughing at the way Liam’s eyes go wide.

“Really did miss you around here,” Liam’s holds his breath, waiting for the _‘babe,’_ “Liam.”

Liam presses out a grin, tries to hold it all together so his face doesn’t fall as Zayn slides from behind the counter, throwing a wiry arm around Niall’s shoulder and he’s dragging Niall off while Liam tries to remember to inhale, exhale.  He tries not to kick himself, frustration building like that cold chill in the middle of January.

And everything inside of him wishes he could tell Zayn how much he missed him.  How much he misses Zayn even when they’re two feet from each other.  But the words just settle painfully in his stomach and when he goes to turn the page of his comic, the edges are wrinkled and all he sees is a blur of colors rather than artwork and words.

**

“Oh, _look_.  Evil takes a human form.”

Liam meets Harry Styles a few hours later, when the buzz of the store comes in spurts, this particular time being a slower one.  He pushes through the door with a cherry-sticky grin on his lips, dimples showing, and his curls really are shiny and silky looking, bouncing as he moves with the kind of excitement Liam remembers having when he first started at the shop.  His green eyes are lit up like the sun, his shirt missing a few too many buttons, and his pants are tighter than Louis described, like they’ve been painted on.

Louis sighs loudly from his position on the counter – honestly, does the guy not know the meaning of a chair? – while Zayn lifts his head from where he stands crowded next to Liam behind the counter, chewing at his bottom lip before smirking.  Liam’s eyes lift too, not before peeking down Zayn’s loose shirt to trace his eyes over the inky wings etched over Zayn’s chest, the thin red lips.  He shifts a little, something stirring in his boxers and he feels Zayn’s fingers gliding lightly over his knuckles before Liam can turn the page on whatever comic they were reading – _Thor_?  No, _Supergirl_ , yeah?  Probably an _Archie_ comic actually.

“Hey Lou,” Harry says with a buzz, lips tipping higher and Liam’s a bit shocked at how deep his voice is, the way it draws out slowly like thick molasses.

“Styles,” Louis groans with a small eye roll, hopping off the counter.  He eyes Harry when he won’t remove that brilliant grin when he stops in front of Louis – _I just wanna break you down so badly, well I trip over every word you say_.

“How are things today?” Harry asks, fingers sweeping then swiping through those curls.

Zayn slides the toe of his shoe along the back of Liam’s calf, nodding toward them but Liam’s too distracted by the way Zayn’s smirk pushes at his cheeks, crinkles the edge of his mouth.  And those fingers – _I just wanna break you down so badly in the worst way_ – keep tracing over Liam’s skin, over the veins, the bumps along his knuckles, the skin of his wrist.

“ _Fine_ ,” Louis pushes put through his clenched teeth, looking everywhere except Harry’s eyes.  Liam’s brow raises, a small smile pulling at his lips when he spots what Zayn wants him to see – indifference.

“I thought maybe – “

“I need a lunch break,” Louis cuts in, eases around Harry with a faltering smile, ruffling fingers through his hair.

“Did someone say nosh?” Niall asks briskly, peeking from around one of the corners and Liam could’ve swore the kid was far in the back, re-stocking some books in the Religion section.

“You just ate an hour ago,” Zayn laughs out, dragging his small nails over the backs of Liam’s fingers.

“Oh sod off Malik, the man needs nutrition,” Louis fusses.

Zayn flips him off, Liam pinching his side when an elderly woman hobbles inside with one of those large bags, a cane, and all those stringy gray hairs pulled back into a tight bun.  Liam greets her with a warm smile that she nods at before her upper lip curls at Zayn.  Zayn offers her a shrug before turning his eyes back on Niall.

“Food is a necessity,” Niall declares, nose wrinkling with a grin when Louis nudges his shoulder before slipping an arm around his waist.

“The leprechaun is sort of right,” Louis notes, leaning his head on Niall’s shoulders.

“You’re sort of mental,” Liam notes, crooked smile on his lips and Zayn’s snickering, leaning further into Liam with an amused expression.

“And an ass,” Zayn adds, eyes flicking between Louis and Harry, who looks a bit wounded but Liam doesn’t know the guy well enough to tell.

“Correct on both accounts,” Louis chimes as Niall eases an arm around Louis, almost protective.

“I’m quite fond of the lad,” Niall says with a small shrug, Louis twisting his head to smile up at Niall.

“Look at them,” Liam says lowly, elbowing Zayn’s ribs lightly.  “They’re a regular old Tony and Pepper.”

Zayn pulls back, making a face and Liam nips at his lower lip.  “That was _bad_ , babe.  Pretty awful.”

Liam offers him a small shrug, snorts at his own joke but he feels four sets of eyes on him and his own eyes drop to the ground, watching his Converse dig into the carpet.  He knows he’s not very good with jokes, never was, but usually at least he can pull Zayn into laughing with him.

“More like Tony and Rhodes,” Zayn teases quietly, leaning in just close enough that Liam feels his snicker against the edge of his ear.  Liam breathes out a thick smile, his world settled again.

Louis glares at them for a beat, eyes shifting over Liam like he wants to say something and Liam bites at his tongue, prays Louis doesn’t because that’s a discussion, probably an _argument_ , he doesn’t want to have.  Not anytime soon, at least.

“Lunch then, yeah?” Louis say smoothly, head turning toward Niall again.

Niall nods happily, eyes turning wild and bright like one of those wild squirrels chasing a nut mid-Spring.

“Come on,” Zayn sighs, pulling away from Liam and Liam blinks at him, watches him eases around the counter before throwing his arm around Niall’s shoulders.  “I need a smoke.”

Liam tugs at his bottom lip, eyes flickering over Harry who’s still watching Louis with the smallest of smirks, eyes flitting away when Zayn lifts his eyebrow.  Liam swallows back a sigh, watching the way Louis, Niall, and Zayn fall into laughter about something, Louis teasing Zayn while Zayn drags his fingers through Niall’s hair, tangling around the thicker bits and Liam feels something tighten his stomach.  He looks away before Louis’ eyes drop on him, flips through a few pages of – What were they reading again? – _something_ before turning away, leafing through a few of the book orders Paul’s left near the till.  He doesn’t recognize any of the authors’ names, figures Zayn would if Zayn wasn’t too wrapped up in that annoying little Irish… Liam rubs at the back of his neck because, yeah, he’s not doing that.

“You want something Liam?” Zayn calls out and Liam glances up, catches Zayn halfway out the door, Louis already shoving Niall playfully outside and their laughter is distracting in the worst way.

Liam presses out a halfhearted smile, shaking his head.  “No.”

Zayn nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.  His lips quirk at the corners before he’s smiling out, “I’ll bring you back a bottled water.”

Liam nods, his own lips betraying with him a wide smirk that has Zayn snickering, waving him off before slipping out the door.  And Liam’s sighing into his fist, barely hearing someone ask him where the Romance section was before Harry’s stepping in with a smile, guiding the older woman away like he knows the place.

Liam thinks that he might be the only person who doesn’t know this place anymore, even if he could walk through it with his eyes closed in the dark.

**

“Look at him,” Louis hisses lowly, eyes narrowed and he’s nearly pulling up the wood of the counter with his small nails.

Liam frowns at him, organizing a few books behind the counter that customers decided not to purchase.  He glances around, tries to follow Louis’ glare until he finds Harry crouched near the floor in the corner, flipping through a few vinyl records in a crate on the floor.  They’re not really organized, none of them having the patience to figure out how to categorize Jimi Hendrix, the Doors, and Donna Summer into something resembling functional, but Liam knows there’s some good rare pieces in that thick collection, watching Harry lift up an old Prince record with a snort, head shaking.

“Do you hate him or something?” Liam asks quietly, flipping through a few pages of _the Great Gatsby_ , trying to remember his disdain toward the book when he was _forced_ to read it in secondary school.  Zayn helped him pass that class, but not without making Liam put in a tremendous amount of work first.

“I don’t have time to _hate_ such a creature,” Louis says flippantly, waving his hand around offhandedly.

Liam nods slowly, his brow lifting.  “Then what is it?”

Louis shrugs, lips pursing.  “He’s always got a lollipop in his mouth.”

There’s a bubbling laugh pushing at Liam’s lips, chin tucking when Louis turns his glare toward Liam now.

“What?”

“Look at him,” Louis says with a long sigh, head jerking to where Harry is reading the back of some Kiss record, head bobbing to the song in his mind probably, tongue curling around the end of a green lollipop.

“Okay,” Liam drags out, drumming his fingers on the counter.  He watches that long stripe of emerald that’s streaked Harry’s tongue as he licks around the lollipop once more.  Liam’s lips curl into an “O” shape, blushing a little when the tip of Harry’s tongue strokes the candy.

“It’s offensive,” Louis sneers, eyes growing smaller.

“It’s, um,” Liam rubs at the nape of his neck, turns his eyes away because, shit, it was rather distracting.  “It’s _interesting_.”

Louis snorts, pulls his beanie down some.  “Fucking porn star.”

Liam chews at his thumbnail, his brow wrinkling.  “And you hate him for this?”

“I told you I don’t _hate_ him,” Louis blurts out a little too loudly but only Liam ducks when Harry’s head snaps in their direction, saluting them with his lollipop like some sort of carefree spirit that Louis seethes at while Liam nods back, a small wave that has Harry’s grin kicking up higher.

“Fucking prick,” Louis growls lowly, knuckles rapping on the counter.  He shifts his eyes over Liam, “Him, not you, of course.”

“Obviously,” Liam says, dragging his fingers over his hair.  “But then _what_?”

Louis shrugs roughly, leaning back like a cat, ignoring the call from a customer.  He bats those eyelashes with some kind of wicked innocence that Liam almost recognizes, but it’s still raw and unconvincing.

“It’s just him,” Louis says flatly.

“That explains nothing, you know that,” Liam tells him, rubbing at the end of his nose.

“Yes, well,” Louis starts before nudging Liam’s hip with his own, “This life is fucking bullshit, Li.  What do you expect?”

Liam wants to tell him that _that_ doesn’t make sense either but he catches the tip of his tongue with his teeth, eyes Louis as he eases around Liam, moves toward the customer beckoning his attention and he’s all frustrated sighs, hands waving around wildly, before leading the customer through a row of books, still talking far too loudly at someone who was two paces behind Louis as he moved.

“Is he okay?” Harry asks quickly and lowly, dropping some record – The Clash, maybe? – on the counter and there’s some offbeat look of concern in those glimmering green eyes.

Liam nods instantly, tracing his fingers over the artwork on the sleeve.  “He’s Louis.”

“What does that mean?” Harry wonders, childlike amazement offsetting the green in those eyes… and the green on his tongue as he swirls the lollipop in his mouth.

_Definitely disturbing_ , Liam thinks to himself, stumbling smile on his lips.

“You’ll find out.”

“Can’t wait,” Harry cheers, snatching up a stack of books from the counter.  “Want me to take care of these?”

Liam fumbles with the smile creasing his lips.  Louis and Zayn never offered to help with the work, not unless Paul or Liam forced them to.  He wonders sometimes what role they played in the shop but then he sees the sales Zayn brings in from his incredible knowledge – and his looks don’t hurt either, Liam knows – and maybe Louis’ curt personality did help to rid the shop of more than a few annoying customers without driving Liam too mad, but still, they weren’t exactly invaluable in most instances.

“Sure.”

Harry grins back, nodding.  “Maybe I’ll find something interesting to read somewhere in here, though I prefer films.”

Liam holds back a face, wants to tell Harry films are never as good as the books, not that he’d know but Zayn tells him that all the time.

“Film geek?” Liam offers, tries to soften it with a smile because he knows it comes off completely rude and impersonal.

Harry gives him a lazy shrug, stacking the books in his arms.  “Can’t beat a good Pacino film.  Or _Titanic_.”

Liam’s eyes go wide, gaping at Harry.  “You’re fucking kidding right?”

“Tell me you don’t cry every time you hear ‘My Heart Will Go On.’  Tell me,” Harry dares him, smoothed over smile on those cherry lips as he leans over the counter.

Liam balks at him with a laugh, playful shove to Harry’s shoulder that knocks him a little off balance but he maintains his hold on the books, snickering with Liam.  Liam leans back, rubs at his chin until the light scruff pricks at his fingertips.

“Harry, by the way,” Harry says, adjusting the books until they’re tucked under one arm and he’s reaching across the counter.  “Harry Styles.  Liam, right?”

Liam nods slowly, reaching out to take Harry’s hand.  It wasn’t as if they didn’t know who each other were, but there was no formal introduction and Liam suspects Louis had no intentions of doing that, ever.  Not if it meant he had to actually speak to Harry, carry some sort of conversation to draw Harry toward Liam.

“They’re quite fond of you,” Harry notes, head jerking to where Louis’ rolling his eyes at a customer while Zayn rearranges a few comics on the shelves so they’re more artfully appealing.  Liam doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the order he’s aligned them in makes no sense at all.

“Really?”

Harry nods with an amused expression, tangling his fingers in those thick curls until they fall into place.

“Do we actually carry books about karma sutra?” Niall asks, head peeking around the corner with a worried expression.

Zayn’s head lifts with a smirk, Liam catching the way amusement washes over Louis’ face.

“Styles,” Louis sighs, the flickering sound of annoyance not as strong as it usually is.  “Come hither.  It’s time you and Horan got a proper education about the backroom.”

Niall gives him a panicked look, Harry’s grin tightening.

“Uh, I don’t think I want to know,” Niall says nervously, bopping from foot to foot.

Zayn snickers, waves him over.  “You _don’t_.  Least, not from Lou.”

“I’m game,” Harry smiles, those dimples flaring.

“Fucking hell,” Louis groans, spinning away from the customer he was helping as if she was never there.  “Come Styles.  Horan shall just be an unfortunate victim of the randy Uni boys later on.”

Harry smiles around his lollipop – Okay, yeah, he really shouldn’t keep doing that – and Louis sort of gapes at him for a moment, blinking rapidly before narrowing his eyes like he hates Harry again.  He snaps his fingers at Harry, dragging his feet as Harry follows with a little too much enthusiasm in his step.

Liam chews on his lip, stifles a laugh.  He likes Harry, honestly does.  There was something about him, absolute sunshine in a rather curious way unlike Niall who was a constant beam of light that sort of blinded you.  And Harry was cheeky, unaware of his own charming nature which was sort of endearing in the best way.  He told his stories way too slow, his voice sometimes too thick with sticking deepness but when he grinned, you couldn’t help but grin back.  He was polite to the customers, doing his best to help them all around even though Harry didn’t have a clue what kind of book they were looking for, or what comics came out in the past month, but if there was a question about music or movies, his eyebrow did a little twitch, mouth curling into a smile and he could go on for hours on why the Foo Fighters are fantastic but Dave Grohl was ten times better when he was in Nirvana.

His eyes trace over the shop, the way kids bustle in and out enthusiastically with their weary parents who all nod at Liam because either they went to school with Liam or they know him because they went to school with his sisters, or know his parents.  There’s a few Uni kids who’re still in town to take summer courses and Liam knows the crowd is always thicker in the fall when the freshers come in, all worried glances and desperate need for an extra copy of some Chemistry book that Liam knows they only have a few copies of.  There’s the freckled face guys who are a bit too old to still be collecting action figures – even Liam stopped doing that at fourteen – who harass Louis about the new _Superboy_ comic or a copy of _the Wrath of Khan_ – you know, the go-to _Star Trek_ film if you didn’t know any better – until Louis’ clambering behind the counter and begging Liam to take over.  There’s the pretty girls with their hair in messy ponytails, scarves on even though it’s far too hot and they all sort of fawn over Zayn as he explains the intricacies of Shakespeare or the complexities of Tolkien even though Liam’s certain the only thing these girls associate _the Lord of the Rings_ with is Liv Tyler.

Brown eyes settle on Zayn, the way his jaw curves at an angle when he laughs, a hand thrown on Niall’s shoulder as they flip through some comic in the corner.  That hand, those fingers Liam’s thought about rubbing down the small of his back, reaches up and the fingers curl around the back of Niall’s neck, rubbing at the ends of his hair and Liam bites down a little too hard on his lip.  Zayn’s nose wrinkles with another laugh, Niall pointing at something obviously funny, or at least humorous enough to make Zayn laugh in that way that has his head tipping back, eyes crinkling, white teeth bare and Liam’s shoulders are dropping, chin tucking.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, tries to remind himself none of this is helping.  It never works, but at least he tries.  He tries to remember falling in love with one of his best friends was the worst decision he let his heart make.  Trying to think that Zayn, the one with those hazel eyes, eye-catching grin, the one who spoke softly most times but loud when it was funny enough, would ever fall for Liam was, well, ridiculous on so many levels.  Zayn, with the tattoos, who rode a skateboard, knew all the best songs even if he couldn’t recall them all by title, who was into art and reading and everything interesting unlike Liam who liked tea, comic books, all the little things about life that were unnoticeable for a reason.

The tips of his fingers sting when he bats his eyes open again, Zayn’s arm slung heavily around Niall’s shoulder and Niall’s laughing into Zayn’s chest, foot stomping on the ground like it’s the funniest fucking thing ever.  It pounds like drums against his brain – _You know you can’t keep letting it get you down. And you can’t keep dragging that deadweight around._   Zayn’s tipping into him, forehead to Niall’s temple, fingers tightening around the back of his neck.  There’s a bitter taste at the back of Liam’s throat, fingers curling but everything else feels numb for a solid ten seconds.

It’s always kind of been Louis, Zayn, and Liam.  Even when Louis moved onto Uni, Zayn and Liam still clung to him, to each other.  The moment Paul hired them, they brought Zayn in a week later.  They attended all of Louis’ football games every Thursday, cheering as loud as possible with Eleanor grinning two rows below them on the bleachers.  They showed up at those stupid art shows Zayn hated showcasing his art at, taking a piss at him until he was shoving them and laughing along.  Zayn stroked Liam’s forehead while Louis complained on Sundays when Liam wanted to do nothing more than sit on Louis’ deck and read comics while Louis’ parents were away.  Louis didn’t get his jokes, Zayn did.  Liam refused to drink with Louis, Zayn would.  They would both whine about Zayn’s smoking but only Liam would let Zayn curl up to him after a cigarette, feathering his fingers through Zayn’s hair because Zayn only let Liam do that, ever since they were sixteen lying on Zayn’s bed while his parents argued downstairs about money or the children or whatever it was that grownups thought was worth yelling at each other about.  And Louis would call, tell Zayn stupid jokes but Zayn never seemed to settle from that constant shaking until Liam curled his arms around Zayn’s shoulders and hummed softly in his ear, Zayn smiling against the side of Liam’s neck like Liam was the only thing keeping him together.

And it never felt like this – _Better run like hell when you hit the ground. When the morning comes_ – once Liam returned from seeing his parents.  No, it was all long hugs, Zayn and Louis going on for hours about everything Liam missed, which was never much but the two of them were a bad combination anyways so Liam merely smiled with his head on Zayn’s shoulder and Louis’ body draped over his feet.  But Liam could see it, the way Louis kept whispering things to Niall, the way Zayn’s eyes crinkled at almost everything Niall said like he was impossibly funny.  Niall would sit outside on the curb while Zayn smoked on the side of the building.  He’d follow Louis around, staring at him in awe when he’d ignore all the looks he got because Louis pranced around everywhere like he _owned_ the place.

Liam snorts to himself, rubbing at his cheek.  He thinks Louis wouldn’t know the difference if someone pointed it out to him.

It’s not that he worried Niall would steal Zayn away because he was pretty certain Niall was into girls, the way those blue eyes went a little dark when the right customer strolled in with her skirt hiked a little too high or shirt cut a tad too low, but there was something about the way Zayn’s eyes lingered on Niall when he talked.  Like Zayn enjoyed that accent or that goofy smile.

No, Zayn’s not _his_.  He knows Louis will be the one to remind him of that when Liam’s stares linger just a little too long or when he’s carding his fingers through that shadowy hair for a beat longer than he should – _Let it go, this too shall pass_.

“Oh, that’s just gross!”

Liam’s eyes flicker away from Zayn, not before he catches Zayn watching him over his shoulder, lip caught between his teeth with his brow pulled together.  He nearly falls over when Harry bounds behind the counter, too much force thrown into the way he wraps his arms around Liam and cowers his head in the crook of Liam’s neck.

Louis rounds the corner with a smug grin, arms folded over his chest and Liam shoots him a disappointed look.  There is no backroom in the shop.  In fact, it’s just a dead end after the Reference section where all the books are incredibly thick and layered in an impenetrable collection of dust.  No one visits that section, not even Zayn, and Liam has to wonder what exactly Louis showed Harry that has him nearly climbing up Liam to get away from Louis.

“Horan, you’d better watch out,” Louis teases and Liam sighs when Niall’s face goes ghostly white, Zayn biting back a snicker.

“You’re the devil, you know that?” Harry whimpers, those green eyes wide and glassy.

Louis shrugs happily, whistling lowly.

“You’re being kind,” Liam says with a smirk, rubbing idly at Harry’s back.

“Shut it Li,” Louis scoffs, kicking at a stack of books on the ground.  The shelves are too crowded throughout the store, never enough spaces for all of the books they’ve collected or bought off of customers.

“He’s right,” Zayn grins out, pulling his arm from Niall’s shoulders.

“Of course you’d think so,” Louis sighs, eyes rolling.  “You agree with everything your little boy – “

“ _Lou_ ,” Liam hisses with wide eyes, Louis’ mouth snapping shut and Zayn’s giving them both a curious look this time, brow lowering and shadowing his eyes.

Louis waves him off with a groan, spinning to head in the other direction.  Liam’s head drops a little, avoids any look Zayn’s giving him because he’s simply not in the mood to try and figure out what those looks mean right now.  No, not with Harry still clinging to him, chin on Liam’s shoulder with that frightened look barely subsiding.

“He’s evil,” Harry says lowly after popping that damn lollipop from between those cherry lips.  “Like Mike Meyers from _Halloween_ or something.”

Liam sighs, still rubbing gently at Harry’s back.  “Harry, you have no idea.”

“Fucking anti-Christ,” Harry mutters, lips poked out and if Liam wasn’t trying to be so soothing, he’d have a right laugh at Harry.  He turns his head instead, catches Zayn’s eyes on him and they’re narrowed, a bit dark like he’s… Liam shivers at that.  Zayn would never be that: _jealous_.  What for?  Liam was hardly anything worth staking a claim over, and his ex-girlfriends reminded him of that any chance they got.

Liam sighs lowly, wonders how long Harry will cling to him before he realizes Liam’s shift ended twenty minutes ago and he’d like nothing more than to grab his backpack, the comics he wants to browse through later, and get as far from Zayn’s eyes as possible.

**

Mondays seem to be the slowest at the shop.  The rush of geeks comes on Tuesday when all the new comics come out, the Wednesday crowd is full of the intellectual types that need a book for class or something to read by the weekend, Thursday is more a slacker vibe for all the Uni kids that still haven’t started on that paper due Friday or the older crowd who realize that date they’ve been planning all week isn’t going to pan out and they need something better to do.  Friday is a mixed crowd of a little of everything and the weekend is reserved for the ones that want to lounge around the store for hours, reading in the aisles, in a few of the comfortable, cushy chairs Paul has set up around the store, even leaning on the shelves until someone bumps them out of the way.

But Monday?  Monday it’s a dead zone, nothing but scattered customers here and there who’ve managed to find nothing better to do but pretend to want a new book or want to catch up on a few comic series, maybe grab some new music to play later on when they realize their lives are just not all that interesting.

Liam loves Mondays, knows Zayn does too.  It’s the best time to sit in corners of the store, in the back, behind the counter, and read or joke or do anything but deal with that cranky customer who’s truly upset with you because, honestly, did you really think you were going to find _Fifty Shades of Grey_ at the only used bookshop in town?  But it’s all sort of amusing the way Niall breaks a sweat, rifling through stacks and stacks of books to try and find a single copy for that pretty girl with the brunette hair – _Leigh-Anne?_ Liam thinks they went to school together, at least – until she looks frustrated and is stomping out.

“Poor sod,” Louis grins out, leaning back on the counter as Niall frowns, defeated somewhere in the Art section.

“Why didn’t you just tell him we didn’t carry it?” Liam teases, leaning on the counter while flipping the page on his copy of _the Sinestro Corps Wars_ – Zayn be damned, Hal Jordan was the greatest Green Lantern.

Louis shrugs, shoulders falling when Harry looks up from his spot on the floor near the crate of vinyl records, head titling to frown at Niall.

“The little Irish leprechaun didn’t ask,” Louis says flatly, eyes running over Harry who’s wearing a Kiss t-shirt, trousers that are distractingly tight, rolling the tip of his lollipop across the roof of his mouth with just his tongue.  Its purple today – probably grape – and Liam has decided that Louis’ probably going to kill Harry by the end of the week, or shag him on the floor of their flat but Liam’s leaning toward the former.

“You’re pure evil, you know this?” Liam says, leaning further on his elbows to look up at Louis.

“So I’ve been told but,” Louis looks over his shoulder with a wide grin, “if I am, then the curly little shit is my willing sidekick.”

Liam snorts, tongue licking out to wet his lips before dropping his eyes back to the page he’s reading.

“Niall, you’ll get ‘er next time!” Louis shouts, startling a few of the customers near the front rifling through the tattered Romance novels that are stuffed into a bin near the counter.  Liam’s certain Louis could care less about the way they’re glaring at him, not when Niall’s face is lighting up, flushed cheeks speckling scarlet and he’s nodding, bright blue eyes wide and comforted.

Liam doesn’t deny the smile that passes over his own lips, head shaking because maybe Louis wasn’t that bad after all.

“But you young Styles,” Louis starts and Liam decides to throw that last thought out the window.

Liam ignores whatever Louis garbles out, something distinctively unkind that Harry smirks at, twirling his lollipop in the air as if it’s some sort of response but Liam’s honestly not trying to understand on what level Harry and Louis communicate.  He’d probably have a headache and some kind of complex after that and he sorts out that’s truly not worth it.

“Do you think Sinestro was really that bad?” Liam wonders, head cocking to the side as he looks up at Louis.

“Who the fuck is that?” Louis asks back, his voice choked while giving Liam an incredulous expression.  It doesn’t seem to bother him when the door pings open and an older couple walks in.  Liam imagines his words would’ve been a little more colorful for them.

“Nevermind,” Liam sighs, chin dropping.  He draws shapes across the counter, lips pursing before whispering, “Zayn would know.”

“Yes, well, if you’d like the world to know how you feel about – “

“Okay, okay,” Liam bargains, eyes going a bit wider as he looks on Louis whose nodding like he’s won that argument.  He probably has, but not because Liam didn’t have a strong defense.  It was just too early to inform half of the shop about his stupid feelings for Zayn.

Louis might be his best mate but he’s sort of an ass.  And a little shit.

The door swings open before Liam can inform Louis of this, a skateboard rolling in slowly before Zayn’s running up, hopping on the board and riding it a few paces forward, all while balancing two Styrofoam cups in his hands.  He’s all styled grace, dramatics usually left for someone like Louis and Niall’s clapping empathically like he’s impressed, broad smile on his lips.  Harry gives Zayn a small nod, curls tossing back and forth before he’s stringing a hand through them.  Louis’ huffing, eyes rolling and Liam, well, Liam’s just staring at the way the sun catches the angle of Zayn’s jaw, twists like golden ropes of an angel’s halo over those defined cheeks, long lashes, sliding down over a mouth that’s quirked into a proper grin.

Zayn’s rocking his head, leaping off the skateboard before kicking it behind the counter.  He’s got his headphones in, shoulders rocking like a complete dork because Zayn doesn’t dance.  No, it’s the one thing Zayn avoids at all costs but he has his moments, like this one, where he makes it a bit more funny than serious.  He sort of sickening beautiful – something Liam’s not afraid to admit because he’s never found a man to be beautiful but Zayn?  Zayn is every bit of the definition.  He’s the living, breathing meaning of the word and Liam didn’t know too many people who would argue otherwise.

Liam backs into the till, watches the way Zayn rounds the corner with his eyes shut for a moment, dark lashes kissing the tops of those cheeks, before they’re blinking open, humming lowly with an intent look on his face – _‘Cause it’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do._ He’s got a slight bend to his knees, hips moving like he’s finally caught onto the rhythm and Louis’ wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open, Harry laughing from the floor and Niall’s snapping his fingers, throwing his hips side to side because he’s terribly uncoordinated in the most comical way.

Zayn’s voice is smooth like it’s always been, something Liam has been freely envious of since they were younger – _Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you._ Liam’s chewing on his bottom lip, trying to school his expression but it feels near impossible when Zayn’s mouth spreads into a grin, eyes a little lidded like they are when he’s truly into the moment.  His shoulders do that stupid shiver again, Niall doing his best to mimic him from the corner but he’s eight steps behind Zayn.  But Zayn?  He’s into it, teeth nibbling on a corner of his bottom lip, words hammering against Liam’s head – _Is it the look in your eyes, or this dancing juice?_

Louis’ singing along now, his voice a little softer but it’s tangling with the harmony from Zayn’s lips.  Liam’s laughing behind his hand, blush tangling across his cheeks like a rose vine, shoulders rising.  He tries not to think how silly Zayn looks with that varsity jacket from school that still has that white lettering – _Malik_ – stitched across the breast or that goofy Pokémon t-shirt with the picture of Ash on it that’s way too small now since Zayn’s had it since he was _fourteen_ but it looks good against his wiry frame, the hem of it lifting just a hint to expose the top of his white briefs, chinos hanging low off his slender hips.  No, Liam’s too content watching the way Zayn’s still dancing toward him, a troubled spin that’s nearly knocking him off balance and spilling the contents of those cups but he’s still in tune – _Who cares baby? I think I wanna marry you._

Louis’ bopping on the counter, a few customers giggling from behind the aisles, others looking on them like they’re all completely insane and Liam thinks they just might be.  But Niall’s really gyrating his hips now, winking at a blushing Uni girl whose thick glasses are hanging off her nose, hair drawn up in pigtails, and she’s toying with that silly Gryffindor tie she’s wearing as he rocks forward.  And Harry’s drumming along on a stack of comic books, palm slapping against the plastic sleeves they’re encased in with those cherry lips spread into a wicked smile.

Liam’s breath is catching, Zayn close enough for Liam to smell that sticking scent of cigarettes, kiwi body wash, and something that smells like peppermint.  Zayn’s smiling, rocking a little slower to the music in his ears, Liam chewing his bottom lip raw while Louis falls into a full on fit of laughter on the counter, rolling over a few books and knocking a few signs down.

Zayn edges in closer, tongue rolling over his lips, head tilted like he wants to lean in for a kiss but he won’t.  No, he’s just taking a piss at Liam like he always does because it was so fucking easy to make Liam blush.  It was embarrassing how easily he turned into a ten year old with a crush, his body crowded between the edge of the counter and Zayn’s warm body.  His voice has dipped a little softer, white teeth bare – _Just say I do_ – nose wrinkling with a small snicker as Liam shakes his head, the heat from his blush fevering against his skin.

Liam swallows, well at least he tries to but it comes out like an aborted sound from the back of his throat, Zayn pulling his earbuds from his ear with that same horizon-like grin on his lips.

“Tea?” Zayn offers, holding up one of the cups for Liam.

Liam blinks at him for a second, the words still unsettled in his throat, dragging down lining like large chunks of glass.  His fingers shake when he reaches for the cup, index and pinky swiping over Zayn’s and there’s something warm like caramel drizzled over a scoop of ice cream settled into Zayn’s brown eyes.

“Oi, _again_ with the tea,” Louis whines, head thrown back like a petulant child when he sits upright on the counter again.

Liam’s lips quirk, head turning a little to look unfavorably on Louis but then Zayn’s thrusting the other cup in Louis’ direction with a scowl, grumbling something under his breath but Liam can’t hear it over the clattering sound his heart is making in his chest.  He catches the way Louis’ face lights up a little, greedily snatching the cup from Zayn’s outstretched hand and Zayn’s sighing with a smirk, stroking his thumb over the scruff Liam forgot to shave off of his chin this morning.  He’d overslept and didn’t have time but Zayn’s looking on him like he might like the hair, the way it bristles against the pad of his thumb.

Liam thinks he might not ever wake up early to shave again.

“Oi, you piss-face, do you ever make it in before _noon?_ ” Louis asks, lifting the lid to blow generously over his coffee.

“Do you ever just _shut it_?” Zayn says right back, head snapping in Louis’ direction and Liam thinks he remembers how to breathe once Zayn’s eyes aren’t studying him so intently.

“Wanker.”

“Fuck slut,” Zayn snaps back, his voice curled.

“Oh, ten points for creativity,” Louis smiles out, taking a small sip of his coffee before making a face, “negative twenty for bad form.”

“Tosser – “

“Thank you Zayn,” Liam says quickly before Zayn can continue, grinning toward Zayn before pinching the bridge of his nose.  He rubs at Zayn’s shoulder, hoping to stop an argument that he knows will last the rest of the day.  He doesn’t think he has the strength, or the patience, for that.

“Oi, Malik, this is rather shit coffee,” Louis groans, capping the lid back on the cup while a woman with a stack of books in her arms sidles up to the counter, giving him an incredulous glare.

Louis sighs dramatically, of course, hopping off the counter before sliding the woman the already drunken out of cup, grinning mockingly.  “Congratulations, you win a free coffee for being the Twelfth Most Annoying Customer of the Day.  Your grandchildren must be proud.”

He’s stomping off in Niall’s direction, unceremoniously dragging him around the corner before the words she’s choking on escape her lips, Zayn’s hand covering his face to hide his laughter while Liam offers her apologetic eyes.

“Today just got rather intriguing,” Harry says, tongue curling around that lollipop and Liam just might help Louis kill that boy, burying his stash of lollipops ten feet _away_ from him.

**

Despite what Harry says, the day is rather uneventful.  The crowd is slower than a usual Monday, except for the morning rush which Liam sort of _expects_ from the older crowd, the ones looking for something to bury themselves in the rest of the week while phoning in their duties at work or those few Uni kids who are starting a new book in their Literature class and, no matter how many orders Paul puts in, there’s never enough Hemmingway, Poe, Shaw, Faulkner, Elliot, or even Rowling for all the silly papers those kids are forced to write.

Harry finds that old stereo Paul drug in one day to try and give the place some atmosphere – because, you know, all the dust and books so old the pages have started to turn yellow is going to attract anyone – the one Louis forbid them from turning on ever since one of the local stations had stopped playing as much Katy Perry and the Fray as he desired.  They’ve only got three radio stations in the city and the most popular one only plays a little top forty, the rest is mainly classic rock, easy-listening and some stuff from the eighties but Harry ignores the glare Louis gives him once he clicks it on, grinning when the quiet slide of Stevie Nicks’ voice slides into the bookstore.  Niall’s nodding along too, stacking a few of the horror novels in a section of the shop while Zayn’s off somewhere, has been for the past two hours.

“He’s dead,” Louis hisses when he walks by the counter, blue eyes narrowed and Liam’s chuckling lowly, watching Harry spin in small circles with his arms waving in the air.

He’s a complete hipster, Liam recognized that after the second day, but there’s small moments like this where Liam thinks he’s really still just a child trying to find his place in it all.  Louis’ staring at him with wider blue eyes, mouth hanging open and Liam sighs behind his knuckles, smiling softly at the way Louis’ trying hard to hate the guy but he’s really just fascinated by Harry.  And as much as Louis tries, he can’t hide that from Liam.

Liam tilts his head to the side, the slow slide of fingers across a banjo enchanting him – _Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above?_ He peeks around the corner, tries to find those unlaced boots, tan chinos, summer gold skin that’s probably a little paler in the poor light of the store.  He wonders if Zayn’s nodding his head along, singing lowly to himself.

He snickers to himself, Harry singing lowly while running his tongue over another lollipop – Cherry this time and Liam only knows that because Harry offered it to him first.  He can remember giving Zayn shit about even knowing this song because of _Glee_ , a show Zayn still vehemently denies ever watching –

“But I saw you, the other night, when you were at mine.”

“You were delusional, Liam.”

“Zayn – “

“Never saw it a day in my life.”

“You said you’d shag Santana Lopez if you ever saw her.” Liam was giving Zayn a flat expression by then, disbelief running a course through his eyes while Zayn refused to look at him.

“And I would,” Zayn admitted, arms folded across his chest.  “She was _amazing_ when she played Anita.”

Liam still feels the numbness against his lips when he smiles at the memory.  He runs his fingers along the back of his neck, Harry seated on the corner of a foldout table that houses some of the used books in danger of simply being given away.  He’s got a small crowd around him, Niall somewhere in the back of small group with a grin while playing air guitar – _Can I handle the seasons of my life?_

Liam chews on his thumbnail, grins tightly when Louis slides behind the counter, a small pout on his lips like a child missing that one gift on Christmas morning.  Liam anchors an arm around Louis’ shoulders, pulling him closer and he spots the small smile that folds over Louis’ lips, nuzzling his nose to the top of Louis’ head while humming along – _Well I’ve been afraid of changing ‘cause I built my life around you._

“Makes me think of my sisters,” Louis whispers, his voice almost choked.

Liam doesn’t say anything – _but times makes you bolder, children get_ _older_ – merely nods with his chin rubbing against Louis’ stiff brown hair, the product leaving it dry and rough but Liam doesn’t mind.

There’s something about this city that’s kept the three of them hanging around past their expiration date.  Most of the kids in their class had left, abandoned everything about Wolverhampton for other Universities across the country, some choosing London because everyone thinks dreams are made there.  But Liam?  He never had any intention of leaving. This is where his heart belonged, parents or not.  He knew this is where he’d raise his family, marry, start some sort of career in a field he still hadn’t decided even though he was through his first year of University already.

Zayn was almost the same.  He was brilliant, Louis and Liam both knew.  He figured out things quicker than them, was a fantastic writer even though he hid most of his stuff from them, had a brilliant eye for art and Liam still catches him sketching around the shop, notepad in his lap with his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth while he smudged lines across a blank sheet.  There’s an innocence about Zayn in those moments – _Well I’m getting older too_ – the way he keeps focus, drowns out the rest of the world, forgets that anything exists until Liam finally settles down next to him, circling Zayn’s shoulders with an arm and Zayn whispers his aspirations to Liam all while keeping his eyes on that paper, sketching out landmarks from across Wolverhampton, a few comic characters, sometimes a wild drawing of Louis where his chin was too large and his eyes too beady but they’d laugh together about it, foreheads pressed together like they were children again.

Zayn never told Louis that he got a scholarship to an art school in London.  He almost didn’t tell Liam but Liam had snuck into his bedroom that morning, bright smile on his lips as he crawled beneath Zayn’s duvet and went on about getting into the City of Wolverhampton all while Zayn cuddled up to him and tried to go back to sleep.  And Liam hates how his breathing hitched, how his heart caught right along a sharp breath when Zayn whispered about the art school, about not telling his parents, about the scholarship that he was going to turn down because he couldn’t leave Louis.  He knew Louis wanted out, _desperately_ , how Louis was already struggling while in Uni, never good enough to get the kind of transfer to Denton or somewhere in Birmingham, some place closer to London and further from Wolverhampton.

Liam nodded along – _So take this love, take it down_ – biting at a frown.  He knew he should’ve encouraged Zayn to go, to chase after a dream Zayn never admitted he had but Liam always knew.  He bit at his tongue, held back those words because Zayn was staying for Louis, but Liam needed Zayn to stay for him too.  He couldn’t imagine this city meaning much without him around.

Harry’s clapping lowly, Niall moving closer in the crowd, some of the patrons squatting on the floor now like this was some sort of private show with their hands moving in unison.  Liam snorts to himself, fingers musing Louis’ hair and he thinks he can hear Louis singing lowly – _And if you climb the mountain and you turn around. And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills_.

“One day,” Louis whispers, hunching further onto the counter and Liam’s looking down rather than at Harry, “I’ll get away.  I’ll leave this shit town behind.  I won’t worry about my fucking parents and the fact that they’d rather ship their children off or buy them off instead of giving them attention.  I won’t be _that_ guy.”

Liam nods along, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips but he won’t let it break.  For Louis’ sake, he won’t let his lips tip that way.

“I know,” Liam says lowly, his fingers pressing delicately into Louis’ scalp.  “And I’ll be right here waiting for you to come see me at Christmas.”

“Zayn too?”

Liam gives him a shrug in response.  He wants to say _yes_ , feels it right on the edge of his tongue but he knows better.  Zayn’s too great for a place like this.  He’s just not sure when he or Zayn are going to willingly accept that.

Niall’s on the table now, rocking back and forth with Harry, his smooth voice sliding like smooth cream with Harry’s.  They’re grinning at each other, nodding through every lyric – _Well the landslide will bring you down_ – and Liam’s breathing out an unsteady breath, eyes shifting shut.

It’s not hard for him to figure out where Zayn is.  He knows Zayn is somewhere in one of the aisles, spread out on the floor with a book in his lap and a stack of novels beside him.  It’s usually all the ones he starts but never finishes, a small collection of Dan Brown, Harper Lee, H.G. Wells, most likely a copy of _the Blackest Night_ that Zayn swore to Liam he would read, something by Dr. Seuss because Zayn was still every bit the child that Louis was, and the last two Harry Potter books – “I _hate_ the films, but the books are amazing.  I’m almost done, um, with the first three chapters of _Deathly Hallows_.”  His trainers were usually kicked off and somewhere in the middle of the aisle for someone to trip over.  He was probably sitting on his feet, head bowed, chewing on his thumbnail as he read each line twice to make sure he didn’t miss an important phrase or a turn of events.

Liam smiles to himself, imagines Zayn’s hair is probably a wreck from his fingers dragging through it during the parts he didn’t understand even though there were so few of those.  He knows Zayn will lick at his thumb to turn every page, ignoring that bitter taste that comes after one too many brushes with the book’s paper.  He knows none of the customers will disturb him then, the world just a blur of motions while he chuckles to himself at the funny bits, stiffens at the parts that interest him most, gnawing at his lip when he’s nearing the end but doesn’t want to stop.

He never budges when Liam finds him, grins behind his knuckles when Liam toes off his own trainers and plops down next to him, peeking over his shoulders to read what he can before Zayn turns the page.  Sometimes Zayn will wait patiently until Liam’s read every last bit, his index finger tracing over the lines he wants Liam to pay most attention to.  He’ll turn the pages a little slower then, snorting when Liam opens his mouth to ask a question but Zayn’s offering an answer before the words can pass Liam’s teeth, lifting his head to explain everything without that air of annoyance or arrogance Liam knows he’d have if it was Louis or someone else.  No, he takes his time until Liam’s nodding along, biting at his bottom lip while Zayn smirks, fingers tracing lightly over the roundness of Liam’s cheeks before they’re both blushing, Zayn’s eyes dropping to the book and reading softly to himself.

When it’s late enough – the shop doesn’t close until ten on most nights even though the place is usually dead before eight except during exams, all the Uni kids filing in after being hyped up on too much coffee, Coke, and emergency stashes of candy – Liam falls asleep on Zayn’s shoulder, the soft sound of Zayn whispering a particularly intriguing sentence the only thing Liam remembering.  Zayn doesn’t wake him those nights, head still lowered to try and finish another chapter until Louis’ toeing Liam’s side roughly, whining about having to clean up by himself.  Liam blinks his eyes open to Zayn scowling at Louis, barking at him to leave Liam alone, protecting Liam from Louis’ wrath.

Liam wasn’t defenseless, but he never intervened when it came to Louis and Zayn.  He simply blinked out a small smile, slouching against a row of books while Zayn and Louis yelled at each other, Zayn’s fingers rubbing patiently at Liam’s thigh the entire time – _Well the landslide will bring you down_.

**

“So, Supergirl is Clark Kent’s sister?” Harry asks when he plops down into the empty seat next to Liam, grin on his face while proudly holding up a copy of _Batman/Superman: Supergirl._

Liam gapes at him, eyes wide with his brow drawn together.  He instantly shuts that used copy of _the Goblet of Fire_ – He promises Louis he’s not reading it because of Zayn but Louis lowers his brow every time he passes by Liam, shaking his head – and leans forward like Harry’s just uttered a sinful word.  Well, he sort of has but Liam’s not nearly functional enough to break down the cardinal rules of comic book characters to Harry.

“His _cousin_ ,” Liam says slowly, still gaping at Harry.

Harry nods happily.  “And Wonder Woman?”

“No relation,” Liam says flatly, slouching back in his seat.  This kid is serious, yeah?

“No, no,” Harry says, hands waving around manically with a laugh.  “I mean, she and Batman?  They’re shagging, yeah?”

Liam snorts lowly, taffy-like smile spreading over his face.  “Kind of.”

Harry nods again, dragging his fingers through his hair like he always does.  “And Kal-El is?”

“You’re shitting me, right?”

Harry’s eyes go a bit wide like he’s thinking it over.  “Superboy?”

Liam groans loudly, nearly tosses the book out of his lap and he wonders if he could muster enough energy to drag Harry to that set of vintage comics Liam’s arranged in a box in the back and give him a verse-by-verse education on the brilliance of DC Comics.  He wrinkles his brow instead, rubbing impatiently at his temple.

“No, Kal-El is Superman you twit,” Louis huffs, leaping backwards onto the counter, knocking over highlighters and that empty mug Niall was sipping coffee out of earlier.  “Superboy is a clone.”

“Exactly!” Liam exclaims, hands thrown up in rejoice.  He reigns in his expression quickly, eyeing Louis with his mouth falling open.  “Wait, how did _you_ know that?”

Louis shrugs noncommittally, snatching up the apple Liam’s forgotten next to his brown paper bag lunch from earlier.  Louis always gives him shit about actually packing a lunch like he’s in junior school but Liam knows it’s an effective and organized way of approaching his day, especially considering the fact he couldn’t actually leave the store unattended with the likes of Louis and Zayn inside.

“Gets boring around here sometimes, so I read,” Louis finally says, taking a bite out of the apple.  He points it toward Liam, mouthful, before adding, “And you’re wrong, Li.  That _Deadpool_ one-shot was rather wicked.”

“Bullshit,” Liam pushes out, chin lifted.

Louis gives him a one-shouldered shrug, biting into the apple again.  “Piss off.”

“Who’s Deadpool?” Harry wonders, Louis snickering when Liam groans.

“You’ll learn Styles,” Louis tells him, feet kicking against the counter happily.  “Stick around Li and Malik long enough and you’ll get a proper education on how to be a geek.”

“’m not a geek,” Liam grumbles, lips poking out.  Fuck, he’s acting like Louis now.

“Why do you refer to everyone by their last name?” Harry inquires, head tilting to the side as he looks on Louis.

“That’s not true,” Louis argues, lips twisting sideways.  “I don’t call Liam by his last name.”

Liam nods quickly, leaning back with his hands behind his head.  “Probably ‘cause I’m his best mate.”

“Probably,” Louis sighs.

“Okay,” Harry drawls out, shifting in his seat.  “But everyone else?”

“I do it because,” Louis stops himself, his face twisted into that thoughtful one he rarely has.  He’s tapping at his chin, teeth digging into the apple but never biting.  His brow knits together, lips pulling downward and Liam catches the flames of frustration shifting through blue eyes.

“Fuck off Styles, I just do,” Louis hisses, his eyebrows set and Liam watches the way his upper lip starts to twitch with anger.

“Harry,” Harry says slowly, dragging out every letter with a smile.

Liam blinks at him, teeth finding his bottom lip.  He can’t recall the last person that challenged Louis on anything, no one other than Zayn and sometimes Eleanor.

“What?”

“My name is Harry,” Harry says with a smirk, dimples pronounced.

“ _Harold_ ,” Louis hisses back, a bitterness in his tone but there’s a grin itching at his upper lip.

“That’s not my – “

“Oh fuck off,” Louis moans, waving his hand dismissively at Harry.

Harry’s shoulders drop, a pout pressing at those ruddy lips.  “’s not my name.”

Louis chuckles lowly, ripping into the apple again.  His eyes turn on Liam, leaning forward and Liam lifts his eyebrow curiously.

“So what did you bring back your boyfriend from America?” Louis asks, a leanness to his smile that reminds Liam of something out of a horror movie.

Liam sighs impatiently, head shaking.

“Liam has a boyfriend?” Harry wonders, glancing between Louis and Liam.

Liam swallows back a gasp, eyes large when he stares at Louis.  “Lou, don’t – “

“Oh please,” Louis cuts in, waving Liam off.  “He’s going to find out sooner or later.  They all do.  Aiden knew, Phoebe found out, that daft Amelia even figured it out.  Paul too.”

“Wait, _Paul too_?” Liam’s voice is a bit high-pitched and strangled and there’s feathered blush kissing his cheeks when Louis nods with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, the guy knows you don’t have the guts to actually go after what you want so he’s not going to do anything about it,” Louis says assuredly but Liam feels the sting of what the words means.

He sinks further into his chair, head tipped back with a hand covering his face.  He’s trying to even out his breathing, sweat breaking against his forehead and, shit, he can _feel_ Harry’s eyes on him, lips moving to say something.

“Li here has a bit of a thing for Malik.  Fancies him _loads_ ,” Louis blurts out, glancing around quickly to see if anyone’s watching them.  It’s too late in the evening and Niall and Zayn are somewhere in the back restocking books.

“I don’t,” Liam insists but Louis shoots him a disbelieving glare.  Liam was always a shit liar.

“Oh.”

Liam feels his face drop when he turns toward Harry but that feeling dissipates when Harry smiles at him, fingers tangling in his unruly curls.  Liam’s brow lifts, tries to read the way Harry’s leaning back, tongue licking at his lips before he’s laughing, cheeks pinking.

“Not much of a secret if you ask me,” Harry snickers, leaning forward to pat at Liam’s thigh sympathetically.  He settles his laughter, clearing his throat before adding, “I mean, the two of you are quite the scene.  I already thought you were shagging or something.”

Liam chokes on a breath, trying not to look taken aback but he can see it in Harry’s eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“See,” Louis draws out, his chin lifted defiantly.  “I swear, you two are like fucking Kon-El and Tim Drake or something.”

“Who?” Harry asks, brow knit together again.

“What?” Liam says to Louis, eyebrow arched.

“Oh come on, Li.  I get on the internet.  There’s quite a few sites on those two,” Louis notes, sinking his teeth into the apple once more.  He’s drumming his fingers on the counter, rocking back and forth.  “They’ve got quite the following, you know.  A few blogs.  Some interesting theories on why Superboy and Robin are fucking on the regular.  Something about a ship or a sail or some bullshit I didn’t quite understand but, whatever.  Even young Harold knows you two should either be fucking or staying the hell away from each other.”

“Harry,” Harry quickly corrects him.

Louis leans in with a slick smile, munching on pieces of his, no, _Liam’s_ apple.  “Bless you.”

Harry rolls his eyes, Louis leaning back with a satisfied sneer.

“So what’d you get him?” Louis questions, eyes turning back on Liam.

“I don’t buy him gifts,” Liam argues lowly, glancing past Louis when he hears heavy steps approaching.  It’s not Zayn, thankfully, just another customer pretending to browse with interest when Liam knows they’re probably just killing time until their pizza is done.

Louis chucks the core of his apple into the bin by Harry’s feet, clearing his throat loudly before fixing his eyes on Liam.  Liam shrinks in his chair, teeth digging into his lip now and he knows that look too well.

“Three birthdays ago you bought him that Batman skateboard that he still refuses to ride on for fear he’ll leave a scuff mark on it.  Two Christmases ago you bought him the complete _Friends_ boxset because you two are complete dorks for even liking that show – “

“I like that show,” Harry says quickly, a finger raised to draw Louis’ attention.

“As do I but that’s beside the point,” Louis notes, his brow drawn together before his attention settles back on Liam, “As I was saying – Last summer you got him a collection of his favorite books, each with a little note in them about your favorite parts even though we both know you didn’t finish any of them…”

“Romantic,” Harry says, nodding at Liam with a grin.

“Piss off, I was busy making sure you two didn’t burn down the shop last summer,” Liam argues lowly, lips pursed with his brow furrowed.

“Mission accomplished,” Louis cheers, clapping his hands together.  “But then there was his last birthday where you got him a signed copy of _Green Lantern_ number forty-eight, which as _none_ of us know is the first appearance of Kyle Rayner – “

“Wait, who’s Kyle Rayner?”

“Seriously, what planet are you from Harry?” Liam asks with a hushed voice and narrowed eyes.

Harry shrugs, eyes turning back to Louis.

“Which we all know is Malik’s _favorite_ Green Lantern,” Louis continues, punctuating words with smiles and small lifts of his eyebrows until Liam’s dragging his hand over the back of his head, cheeks aching from blush.  “And then there’s a few days before you left for America when you actually nicked his iPod – “

“ _Borrowed_ ,” Liam corrects him quickly, sitting a little straighter in his chair but the look Louis gives him makes him want to slide back down with shame.

“To create a playlist full of Malik’s favorite songs, which are all complete rubbish, as well as adding all the songs you wanted him to hear that you liked – “

“Like an eighties mixtape?” Harry offers with a knowing grin, cheeks pushed up, dimples flaring.

Liam groans behind a hand, kicking his feet at the damn counter.

“ – and I had to hear about said songs for days while you were gone.  Justin Timberlake and Frank Ocean, Li?  Honestly,” Louis says in a mocking voice, his eyes doing more damage than his words ever will.

“So I buy him things for Christmas and his birthday.  Completely acceptable things for a friend to do,” Liam snaps lowly, glaring at Louis with conviction in his eyes.

Louis purses his lips, leaning forward on one hand while pointing at Liam with his other.  “On a _Thursday_ , in _March_ , when it was fucking _raining_ , you bought him new art supplies and a new sketchpad after he’d spilled coffee on his last one.”

“He needed – “ Liam’s words catch in his throat when Louis’ eyes narrow, lip twitching, everything about his posture daring Liam to continue.  He doesn’t.  He slides back down his chair, fists in his lap with his eyes lowered.

“Sounds like love to me,” Harry whistles out, nodding at Louis.

“Wanker,” Liam mumbles, receives a very unfriendly punch to his shoulder that he barely acknowledges, eyes still in his lap.

“Who upset Liam?”

Liam’s head snaps up immediately, cheeks coloring when Zayn stands over them, brow furrowed with eyes flicking between Harry and Louis, finally falling on Liam and there’s biting concern rounding those brown, wait, _olive_ in this light, eyes.

Harry throws his hands up defensively, head shaking.  There’s a stutter in the way Louis’ lips move and before Liam can speak up, Zayn’s punching Louis’ shoulder, eyes turning into slits.

“Leave him alone you dick,” Zayn warns, swiftly sliding behind the counter while Louis rubs at his shoulder.

“You hit me you twat,” Louis grumbles, face wrinkled into a scowl.

“Probably deserved it,” Zayn tells him, slinking behind Liam but not before stroking the back of Liam’s head affectionately.  No, _friendly_ because only two people in love did things affectionately.  It’s friendly when one of those two people is a friend while the other one is madly, blindly, fucking _stupidly_ in love with the other.

Liam slinked even lower into his chair, head shaking.

“And where are you rushing off to?” Louis wonders as Zayn jerks his varsity jacket from the back of the chair Harry’s sitting in, sliding into it before scooping up his skateboard.

“Date,” Zayn replies flatly, stuffing his sketchpad behind the counter.

“Oh God, is Perrie back?” Louis asks, his voice pinched and annoyed.

Zayn shakes his head with a grin, sliding his fingers through his hair to style it, the product long faded.

“That girl that works with El at the coffee shop?” Liam offers, his voice almost unrecognizable.

Zayn smiles down at him, shaking his head once more.

“Chap from the pizza place?” Harry questions, brow lifted.

Liam chokes on his own spit, Louis’ eyes wide, and Zayn snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Not even worth it,” Zayn replies lowly, thumping Liam on the back before scurrying from behind the counter.

“Danielle,” Louis finally says unevenly.

Zayn’s grin tips a little, a small shrug his response.

Danielle.  Danielle Peazer.  Nice girl, honestly, with beautiful cheekbones, large brown eyes, the kind of lips that looked kissable when she didn’t crowd them with too much gloss.  Liam remembers the first few times she came by the shop, slender frame with unruly curly hair, a gym bag on her shoulder and one of those thin scarves around her neck in the middle of March.  She was some sort of dance instructor at a studio around the corner, always in search of books on dancing or silly romance novels that Liam found humorous because he was certain, by the way she carried herself, she was far from lacking in that area of her life.  She made eyes at Liam the first few times, Louis doing his best to encourage Liam into asking her out but, while she was nice, Liam couldn’t find the energy to care enough about seeing her outside of the shop.

It was that rainy day, when Liam had bought Zayn those damn art supplies, when she rushed in with rain sticking to her clothes, hair damp and stringy, with her makeup fading and her breathing desperate.  She needed some book Liam had to search _three_ aisles just to find while she waited up front.  Liam had never really heard her laugh that day, not until he rounded the corner and heard it mingling sweetly with a laugh he’d heard more times than he could remember.  And there she was, hand on Zayn’s chest, his nose scrunched up, eyes crinkling at the edges with his teeth bare while laughing at her.  He’d found a towel somewhere so she could dry off her hair, his fucking leather jacket thrown around her shoulders like that stupid prince charming Liam’s sisters would go on about when they were kids.  Liam dropped the book on the counter when she leaned in to press a glossy-stained kiss to his cheek, scribbling her number with a Sharpie on his palm.

Zayn smelled like her ridiculously sweet perfume the next morning and it took Louis nearly three hours to get Liam out of the loo to help with the Friday rush.  Liam couldn’t make eyes with Zayn for the rest of the day, preferring to stock inventory rather than work the front counter.  He’s certain the carpet was still torn and ruffled from where he’d scuffed his Converse on it while trying not to hate himself.

“I don’t see how anyone would want to date you,” Louis muses as Zayn rounds the corner, toying with the collar of his jacket.

Zayn lifts his brow, eyeing Louis.

“Do you let them ride on the back of your board or do they get to ride on the handlebars of your bike?” Louis teases, leaning forward with a lopsided grin.

Zayn flips him off, upper lip curling while Harry snorts.

Liam watches him, that tightening in his stomach making him want to walk away or throw up.  He rubs at the back of his neck, listens to the chime of the door as Zayn forces it open, that lightheaded feeling blurring his vision a little until Zayn’s throwing him a look over his shoulder.

Zayn’s pausing in the doorway, his hand pressed to the glass of the door, blinking at Liam and his lips are twitching at the corners but his expression his blank.  His eyes, the ones that Liam can’t pick out the colors in because it’s dark outside now, the stars not bright enough to illuminate Zayn’s face, are saying something but they’re not loud enough for Liam to hear.

“See you lot tomorrow,” Zayn finally says, turning away again.

Liam falls back against the back of his chair, listens to the squeak, the wood groaning against his weight.  Harry’s eyes flit between Louis and Liam, Louis already pulling out his phone, his thumb moving swift and with force.  Liam drags his fingers over the side of his head, wishes he had nails to drag against his scalp to draw up physical pain rather than the kind of pain that was slicing down the middle of his chest.

“Fucker,” Louis mumbles, spinning on the counter until he’s facing Liam and Harry, dropping down.

“Should we be saying something?” Harry wonders, leaning forward in Liam’s direction.

Liam’s brow lifts, eyes still lowered but Louis’ waving Harry off, plopping down into Liam’s lap.

“There’s this guy that El’s been telling me about,” he starts but Liam’s eyes lift immediately, teeth nibbling on his lower lip.

Louis nods slowly, knows not to continue.  He simply runs a hand over Liam’s head, his thumb sweeping over Liam’s forehead.

“Chocolate ice cream from Sandy’s when we leave, yeah?” Louis offers.

“Double scoop?” Liam nearly begs, lips pulling downward.

Louis nods with a smile, patting Liam’s head like a scolded puppy.  “Chocolate sprinkles too.”

Liam makes a face, nose wrinkling.  He lets the tingling laugh that escapes Louis’ belly soothe him, deciding not to shove Louis off even though he’s far too heavy and refuses to sit still.  He’s incapable of such things, Liam knows.

There’s a thundering thump somewhere around the corner, the clattering of books falling, and Harry’s eyes go wide, Liam chewing on his lip while Louis groans.

“Horan?” Louis calls out, leaning forward but they’re too far back to see around the corner.

“Um, lads, clean up in the Anatomy section?”

Liam ducks his head into Louis’ chest, laughing with his fingers digging into Louis’ waist.  Harry’s giggling behind him while Louis’ clicking his tongue against his teeth, sighing loudly.  Liam lets the buzz of the laughter vibrate against his skin, the rush of a good feeling slide like condensation across his mind.  He doesn’t eye the door though he wants to.  He wants to know if Zayn will walk back in, bright smile and gold-freckled eyes.

He wants to watch the door with strict attention just in case Zayn decides that look he gave Liam meant something.

**

Louis hates rearranging the comics on Tuesday nights.  The small flood of children, teens, even a few of the University students after their favorite titles come out with new editions usually left the shelves ravaged like a Thanksgiving banquet.  He would complain for hours even though the whole process took Liam forty-five minutes tops and that’s only because Liam was precise about everything.  Louis usually made the shelves look _acceptable_ , nothing brilliant but Liam?  Liam organized everything, found a spot to showcase every new book, stocked the older issues neatly behind the new ones, ensured that no Marvel title touched a DC one, even found a separate row for the independent publications because, yeah, they had some rather fantastic comics too.

Louis’ not there tonight.  His sisters are in town for a week before his parents sweep them away for a holiday in Valencia and then they’ll spend the rest of the summer with Louis’ grandparents in Doncaster.

Liam’s sort of chuffed Louis’ away.  There’s far less complaining, fewer customers stomping out, and there’s no one around to call Harry a “daft little shit” when he turns the stereo up particularly loud after eight, head nodding along to Roxette – _Listen to your heart when he’s calling for you_ – with his thin Hendrix shirt on, fedora cocked back and covering most of his curls with a pair of Louis’ sunglasses over his eyes.  Liam still hasn’t figured out why Harry’s wearing them – it’s after eight and the sky is that nice royal purple shade that Liam loves, but the sun has slipped far away, leaving behind streaks of pink in the darkening sky.  But Harry’s drumming along the counter, grinning painfully each time a customer slides up to the counter with a grin and a stack of books.

He’s distracting in a brilliantly wild way, playing air guitar when he thinks no one’s watching, strutting like he was Mick Jagger’s son, lips curling when he reaches for the high notes that he never gets, not like Zayn could.  He’s sliding lollipop after lollipop between those cherry lips, his tongue streaked in all colors of the rainbow.  He tips his shades down on his nose when Liam chuckles at him, eyebrow arching high with one of those cheeky smirks that Louis hates but Liam sort of loves.

“Tea, coffee or Captain America?” Zayn asks, hopping up on one of the tables that holds boxes and boxes of old comics, feet kicking back and forth as he grins at Liam.

Liam startles a little, nearly knocking over a few of the _Wolverine_ comics – not that that would be a particularly _awful_ thing – and he’s blinking at the other boy, mouth forming an _“O”_ as Zayn runs his tongue over his lips.

“What?”

Zayn snickers, nudging his foot against the back of Liam’s knee.  “If you could only have one thing for the rest of your life, would it be tea, coffee, or Captain America?”

Liam looks taken aback, studies Zayn for a moment but there’s a seriousness behind that smile.

“Tea,” Liam says with a small shrug, chewing his bottom lip for a beat.  “Wait, no, Steve Rogers Captain America or Bucky Barnes?”

Zayn’s brow wrinkles, shoulders lifting carelessly.  “Whichever.  Your choice, babe.”

_You_ , Liam thinks but it comes out as “Captain America” instead.

“Really?” Zayn sounds doubtful, leaning in a little and Liam feels small under his narrowed eyes.

“Tea?” Liam offers instead, teeth nipping at a corner of his lip.

“That’s what I thought,” Zayn chuckles, fingers reaching out and dusting over the back of Liam’s hand as he reaches for another comic on the table.  His smile pushes his cheeks up, lips curved around the corners, those honey eyes crinkling around the edges.

“What about you?  Coffee?” Liam wonders, his heart curling at the way Zayn’s fingers drag over his knuckles.

“Coffee and Steve Rogers,” Zayn says with a small shrug, nails grazing lightly over the hairs on Liam’s forearm.

“Hey, why do you get two choices?”

“My game, my rules,” Zayn grins out, pulling back and Liam suddenly feels cold, in need of those light touches.  He can hear Harry behind the counter, – _I don’t know where you’re going and I don’t know why_ – his voice low but pleasant.

“You knob,” Liam laughs out, restocking a few copies of _Wonder Woman_ before glancing at Zayn whose all glittery eyes and tickled grins.

“What are you doing Saturday night?” Zayn asks quickly, the words sliding too hastily together.

“Hmm,” Liam hums, eyes on the comics because, no, he _can’t_ look in those eyes for too long.  And his heart, the one that’s literally beating in time with that stupid song in the background, feels like it’s slowly trying to climb up his throat.  “Watching the new Justice League film Lou bought me?”

“Or going to see _Iron Man 3_ with me, yeah?” Zayn asks, his voice lower now and it’s been so long since Liam has caught that slow slide of vulnerability in Zayn’s voice, the one he usually uses when they’re huddled together in Liam’s bed, chatting about Zayn’s family or silly things like a girl breaking up with Liam.

“Really?” Liam tries to reign in the excitement in his voice but it all comes out strangled, blush settling in immediately.

Zayn laughs lowly, nodding with his teeth bearing down on his lip.  Those fingers have returned, warm strokes right along the inside of Liam’s wrist, over that tattoo Liam got last summer when Zayn was set on inking almost every inch of his own skin.

“You haven’t seen it yet, yeah?” Zayn wonders, lips tipping a little downward.

Liam shakes his head quickly, smile stroking his lips.  Zayn mimics it after a beat, his thumb running over the bones of Liam’s wrist.

“My treat,” Zayn adds, chin lifted and there’s something starry-eyed about his expression.  “I’ll even throw in a bag of chocolates for you, you nut.”

Liam throws a hand over his chest, batting his lashes a little too theatrically.  “You sure know the way to a guy’s heart, babe.”

Zayn snorts, shoves Liam playfully before his foot is stroking over Liam’s calf.

“Fucker.”

“Listen to you go on about trying to win my heart over and then be so impolite,” Liam teases, reaching forward to push that snapback – _Niall’s_ , Liam thinks – back to thread his thick fingers through Zayn’s soft hair.  “You’ll make a fine husband one day, Zayn.  A smashing catch you are.”

“You’d be so lucky,” Zayn spits back with a laugh, curving into Liam’s touch like a cat.

Liam grins, his thumb running over Zayn’s temple.  _I would_ , he thinks but he lets the words slide back down his throat, watching the way Zayn looks up at him with long lashes kissing his cheeks, lips quirking, and Harry’s low timbre – _Listen to your heart when he’s calling for you_ – as he sings into his lollipop with his head tipped back.

“Uh, guys, do we carry _Power Pack_?” Niall asks lowly, scuffing his shoes on the carpet as he sidles up to Zayn and Liam.

Liam’s brow lifts but Zayn’s grinning wide, arching backward and away from Liam’s touch.  The tips of Liam’s fingers feel like ice cubes, his heart like a blue flame.

“Sounds like an orgy!” Harry calls from across the store, smirking when Zayn sputters out a laugh, his nose wrinkling and hands clapping.

“Harry,” Liam hisses, shaking a finger at Harry.  Harry shrugs, slipping that strawberry lollipop between his lips again while drumming out the solo in the song.

“Nialler,” Zayn says with a wide smile, arm sliding around Niall’s hunched shoulders, jerking him inward.  “Saturday night.  _Iron Man 3_.  You’re in, yeah?”

Niall blinks at him, his expression blank for a minute and Liam feels his heart making that climb again, lumping in the middle of his throat.

“Do I need to see the other two films first?” Niall asks with a small voice.

_Yes_ , Liam thinks but Zayn smiles out a “No.  We can fill you in.”

“Can we get some Nando’s first?” Niall wonders, a smirk kissing at the corners of his lips.

_‘No, you little shit, you’re_ not _going,_ ’ Liam wants to say but, again, Zayn’s swifter.

“Of course,” Zayn drawls out, shaking Niall’s shoulders and Liam thinks his heart is weighing his tongue down too much to even speak.

“I’m in.”

Liam nods tensely at Niall’s sunny smile, teeth raking at his bottom lip with his fingers curling into fists.  He can feel his fingers digging into his palm, leaving behind small marks but it’s calming when Zayn turns to him with an even wider smile, destroying hopes that Liam hadn’t realize his mind had time to build.  He’s clenching his jaw, trying to hold his face from falling as Zayn threads his fingers through Niall’s thick blonde hair, echoing laughter between the two as they tease each other about things Liam can’t focus enough to hear.

Harry’s chin is resting on his knuckles, apologetic green eyes resting on Liam, and Liam wants desperately for him to stop humming and reminding Liam that, yeah, Zayn could never want someone like Liam.  He was just so… _pathetic_ – _Listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye._

**

“I bet you lot will never guess where we’re going tonight,” Harry blurts out when he rushes into the shop Saturday morning.

Liam glances over him: cheeks flushed, curls matting to his head from the sweat, silly cross necklaces clinking together when he moves, suede shoes catching on the carpet, his loose t-shirt curving low and Liam can almost see every tattoo stretched across Harry’s collarbone and upper chest – and even the butterfly inked on his stomach through the thin material.  But there’s that Cherubic smile on his lips, green eyes glimmering and Liam smirks behind his knuckles when Harry slaps his palms on the counter, rattling Louis.

“Piss off Hazza,” Louis groans, pushing up the sunglasses on his nose while waving Harry off.  “I’ve got a massive headache and the mere sight of you is making me bloody nauseous.”

“Too much wine last night, Lou?” Zayn questions, nudging Liam’s hip with his own.

Liam smirks, pushing away that worn copy of _the Killing Joke_ he and Zayn usually read on slow Saturday mornings.

“ _Vodka_ , Zayn, love.  I went on a fantastic bender last night,” Louis smiles back, turning his nose up when Zayn swirls a finger in the air as if to say he’s not impressed.

Liam can’t help his snicker when it fumbles past his lips.  “He got sloshed in our flat.”

“Completely raided the liquor cupboard,” Niall adds, folded pizza in his mouth and eyes fall on him because, seriously, it was _ten in the morning_.  Where the hell did he get pizza from?

“What?  That ace guy Josh, you know, the dorky but incredibly fit one that works at the pizzeria?” Niall offers, stuffing his mouth with more pizza.

“ _Incredibly fit_?” Harry questions, his eyebrow arching.

Niall flips him off, swallowing down half his Coke before pushing out, “Whatever.  The guy opened up early so I could get a slice.”

“Or _seven_ ,” Zayn teases, pointing to the open box that Niall’s nearly demolished.

Niall’s cheeks color cherry red, swatting Louis’ hand away when he reaches for a slice.

“Why were you getting pissed?” Harry questions, Liam spotting the way those emerald eyes are rounded by a flickering of concern that Liam can’t quite understand.

“None of your fucking business,” Louis snaps.

Harry pulls back a little, his expression wounded and, yeah, say hello to Louis with a Hangover dear Harry Styles.

“Don’t mind him,” Liam says briskly, fingers sliding over the counter to run over the back of Harry’s hand.  He presents a small smile when Harry’s eyes turn on him.  “He’s quite unpleasant when he has a hangover.”

“Or when he hasn’t been laid,” Zayn adds, snickering into the crook of Liam’s neck when Louis’ head snaps in his direction.  Zayn’s breath is warm, moist there and Liam wonders if he should pull away before his cock stretches his Batman boxers a little too far and he’s honestly not in the mood to explain his boner to anyone, let alone Zayn.

“Charming,” Louis bites out, his lip curled.

“Where are we going tonight?” Niall says swiftly, his words a bit garbled with his mouth still full of pizza.

“University party,” Harry says lowly like it’s a secret and the grin that accompanies it tells Liam it just might be.  “Got on good with one of the guys down at the coffee shop and he invited me and my mates out.”

“ _Oh_.” Niall blinks at him for a moment before a grin spreads over his cheeks.  “A Uni party, eh?  Sounds fantastic.”

“Sounds like you’re off your trolley,” Louis sighs, hand thrown over his sunglasses.  “Uni parties here are terribly boring.  A bunch of geeks getting high and pissed and watching Star Wars.  Not interested.”

“It’s in Oxford,” Harry says with a blinding smirk and Liam watches the way Louis slowly lowers his sunglasses, grin spreading leisurely over those pinkish lips, once small eyes growing large and anxious.

“You lying shit,” Louis hisses with a smile.

“Oxford?” Niall trades glances between Harry and Zayn, Zayn shrugging while Harry nods happily.

Harry holds up two fingers for Louis, crossing them with an evenly large smile.  “’m not.”

“Lou, _no_ ,” Liam orders but Louis’ already leaping off the counter, easing his arm around Harry’s hip, and it’s quite amusing the way Harry’s face slides into a perplexed one, looking down at Louis with broad eyes and batting lashes while Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Li, why not – “

Liam shakes his head again, fingers tightening on the spine of that graphic novel.  “You know _why_.”

“Oxford,” Zayn says slowly and Liam watches as something gradually slips across his face and he’s laughing, teeth gripping his bottom lip as he nods toward Louis.  “Tenth year.  Your first year at Uni.  You and El had just ended for the _third_ time, yeah?”

“I don’t recall,” Louis lies, it shows in the way his bashful blue eyes refuse to meet Liam’s.

“Purple pills, Lou.  Cider and beer.  Six rounds of beer pong.  An hour of body shots and you hooking up with some daft little redhead with freckles and I had to hear about how awful he was at blowing you for hours after I stole my father’s car to come pick you up,” Liam tells him with a pointed tone.

“Don’t forget the Jell-O shots,” Zayn adds with a licked out smile, fingers sliding over the counter to slip between Liam’s, his thumb rubbing along the skin between Liam’s thumb and index finger until his breathing evens out again.

“They were fantastic,” Louis sighs with a smile, instantly tightening up when Liam growls lowly.

“I’m in,” Niall cheers, saluting Harry with his Coke bottle.

“We’re _not_ going,” Liam snaps at Niall, his jaw tensing.  Zayn’s nose is nuzzling his cheek, his heart settling into a slower rhythm but his blood is still boiling and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow every time they fall on Louis.

“Oh come on Li,” Louis whines, feet stomping on the carpet like a petulant child.  Liam’s certain he won’t ever grow up.

“No.”

“Liam,” Harry pleads and those green eyes are glassy, desperate.  Fuck you Harry Styles, when did Louis become _your_ mate?

“It’d be a great bonding experience,” Niall argues.  “Think about it.  The five of us, out of this city, together.  We already get on great, right?  We need this moment, away from the city, away from what we all keep avoiding.  All the bullshit.  And, I think, we need each other even if we won’t say it.  Sounds fucking brill.”

Liam’s gaping at Niall – when did he become so… _sensible_?  Brilliant, even.

“Liam and I can’t,” Zayn says lowly, the buzz in Liam’s head subsiding just a little when Zayn’s hand pulls from his.  “We’re going to see _Iron Man 3_.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis groans, burying his head in Harry’s shoulder.

Liam watches the way that smile hangs over Harry’s lips, his arm slowly sliding around Louis’ waist.  It’s a bit hollowing, the way Harry is comforting him, skimming over all of those hurtful words, those damaging looks, the way Louis is always, well… Louis fucking Tomlinson.

“Yeah.  Zayn and I – “

“Are going to Oxford,” Louis demands, chin lifting and those sunglasses are hanging on the edge of his nose, eyes incredibly serious in the most discomforting way.

“Come on Liam,” Niall begs, pushing a slice of pizza in Liam’s direction as some sort of peace offering.  Liam wants it as far from his mint condition copy of _the Return of Superman_ as possible.

Liam sighs, eyes flickering over Zayn’s.  There’s an indifference there but something resembling interest flits in them.  He’s shrugging those small shoulders, lips sliding sideways like he’s considering it and Liam bites at his tongue, wishing more than anything Louis was not his best mate.

“Fine,” Liam pushes out, eyes sliding shut and his skin feels cold, heavy when he hears the sighs of relief from the others.  He’s pulled into a swelling warmness, Zayn’s arms coiling around his waist, his breath along Liam’s ear, his heart steady against Liam’s palm.

“I’ll take you another day,” Zayn promises quietly, Liam nodding, breathing in cigarettes and kiwi before Niall’s throwing his arms around them, Harry climbing over the counter to join in and Liam wishes he was suffocating instead of smiling against Zayn’s neck, reconsidering the last five minutes countless times until his mind goes a little numb.

“You lot are fucking mental,” Louis says from the other side of the counter, head shaking with a smile.  “And we’re going to get terribly pissed tonight.”

Liam wants more than anything for Louis’ words to be complete bullshit.  In fact, he keeps hoping such when they all pile into Louis’ car, Harry in the front with Louis – and whose brilliant idea was that? – with Zayn settled in between Niall and Liam in the back, drumming his fingers along Liam’s thigh while Liam dug his fingers into the back of Louis’ seat, leaning forward.

“Just follow my directions,” Harry tells him, leaning back with one of those easygoing smiles that leave Liam’s stomach dropping out.

“The fuck I am,” Louis scoffs, fiddling with the radio until he finds a song he can tolerate for more than five seconds.  “Liam, find the directions on your phone.”

“You won’t,” Harry snorts, his finger lifting to switch the station.  “It’s not exactly at the University.”

Louis swats his hand away, his brow furrowing and Harry’s grinning at him, reaching past Louis again to switch the station.

“Oh, is this one of those underground parties that all the kids go to but only, like, half of them make it out alive like in the horror films?” Niall asks with far too much joy in his voice for Liam’s liking.

“Floor it Lou.  I don’t think I’m going to survive this whole car ride with you lot without a smoke,” Zayn complains, head tipping back and those nimble fingers keep drumming along Liam’s leg to whatever song is in his head.

Louis glares at Zayn from the rearview mirror, a finger raised pointedly.  “Malik, I swear if you light up in my car, I will remove your balls with a dull knife and mount them over Liam’s bed.”

“So my balls would be over Liam’s head every night?” Zayn questions with a sideways smirk, eyebrows waggling at Liam until his cheeks are a thick red hue.  “Doesn’t sound like punishment to me.”

Liam slaps at Zayn’s thigh, threatens to smack Niall when he catches him snickering but Niall’s quickly throwing his hands up defensively, his serious expression faltering for a few more giggles.

“You’re disgusting, Malik,” Louis fusses, pulling off the main road onto the freeway.

“Says the lad who swallows – “

“Zayn!” Liam squeals and Louis’ nearly veering the car into the median, everyone jerking to the right except Zayn who’s lips are sliding into a pleased grin.

Louis’ got a hand over his chest, heavy pants exhaling from his lips, and Liam bites at a smile on his lips when Louis’ cheeks are stained crimson the moment Harry’s eyes fall on him curiously.  He’s mumbling lowly, all of his words muted by the music blaring from the radio – _Whoa, I never meant to brag but I got him where I want him now._

“So this whole no lighting up thing,” Harry drags out in that slow like honey voice, fingers slipping into that pocket on his plaid shirt, fixing the beanie on his head before he’s drawing out a small blunt.  “That applies to this too?”

Liam groans, Niall gaping at Harry, and Louis’ fingers are tightening around the wheel while Zayn leans forward in his seat.  Liam pushes gently on Zayn’s shoulder, head shaking until Zayn’s fingers fit on his thigh again, dragging impatiently with his small nails digging at the fabric of Liam’s chinos.

“You will not stink up these leather seats with such foulness,” Louis orders, his words half-bitten, knuckles turning white from gripping the wheel.

Harry snorts, foot kicking up on the dash and Liam’s counting backwards from ten until Louis literally flips the car over in an attempt to murder Harry Styles.

“Harold,” Louis hisses through his teeth.

“Harry,” Harry corrects him, leaning in closer to Louis, fingers tickling along Louis’ forearm and those fingers grip the wheel a little too tightly now, jerking to the left.

“I sort of wanted grandchildren, mates.  Like loads of them.  And a wife, I think.  Or several dishy girlfriends,” Niall announces nervously, fingers gripping at his seatbelt, the leather along the seat far too slippery for his fingers to find purchase.

Zayn laughs lowly, head tipping to the side and resting on Liam’s shoulder.

Liam smiles, knows Zayn could fall asleep anywhere, even in a car veering jerkily left to right every time Harry draws a little closer to Louis – _Once a whore, you’re nothing more. I’m sorry, that’ll never change._

“And another trip back to Mullingar to see me dad and brother.  I’d like that too,” Niall adds in a panicked voice, blue eyes wider than humanly possible.

“Shut it Horan,” Louis and Harry say together, Louis voice pinched while Harry’s is smooth and supple.  Louis’ eyes are flitting toward Harry while Harry grins, fingers tiptoeing on the inside of Louis’ arm.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis growls, foot pushing further into the pedal.

Harry smiles, slow and lethal.  His thumb traces over that silly bird tattooed on Louis’ forearm, over all the smaller ones on the inside.

“You’re kind of gorgeous when you’re pissed,” Harry whispers but Liam catches it, the way Harry’s tongue slides gently over his curled lips.

“You’re mad,” Louis chokes out, tries to laugh it out but it comes out just as strangled as his words.

“Your eyes are so blue,” Harry adds, his voice a foggy deepness.

“You’re high.”

“Why do you hate me?” Harry asks, his voice turning serious but his fingers haven’t left Louis’ skin, moving idly over that cup of tea, that paper airplane etched over that tan skin.

“I-I don’t,” Louis stumbles out, eyes flickering from the road for a moment.  “Not entirely.”

Liam chews at his lip, reaching over Zayn’s head to rub tender fingers over Niall’s tense shoulder while watching something glaze over Louis’ face, a suddenness that’s calming but confusing all at once.  He knows it well, has felt it for far too many years to comprehend why it won’t fucking go away.

“Good to know,” Harry grins, pulling back but his fingers still run delicately over Louis’ wrist, singing lowly along with the radio – _But God, does it feel so good ‘cause I got him where I want him now._

**

The thing about parties is Liam’s never felt completely comfortable at them.  He’s fairly good at making small conversation with complete strangers, making jokes that no one really gets but laughs along to because it’s the polite thing to do when there’s free alcohol, a nice selection of recreational drugs, and blaring music.  But he’s not good at the flirting thing or the drinking thing – having one kidney when he was born was a rather polarizing thing to explain when someone offers you a drink for the _twentieth_ time – and he kind of hates the fact that there’s always the same rotation of songs played, the same ones he hates to dance to or nod his head along to like Harry and Zayn do.

Louis thrives in places like this, taking three shots of whatever they’re serving in plastic shot glasses before they can even cross the threshold to some house – or maybe an abandoned farm, Liam’s not really sure because he passed out with Zayn halfway to Oxford – and Niall’s not too far behind him after guzzling his first beer and downing half of his second one once they find a room that’s not too crowded with girls pissed off their asses or guys passing suspicious things back and forth like it’s the loo back in secondary school.

Harry’s all grins and silly laughs, taking a few pulls of whatever half the party is smoking, Zayn joining him an hour later because the party sort of drags in that way you expect when it’s a bunch of University kids with no real reason to party other than the fact that that stupid paper about some silly war is done.

Niall stays close to Liam, Louis drifting off into a few of the rooms with some kids he knows from back home, hanging off anyone who’ll listen to one of his slurred stories about “that shit city Wolverhampton.”  He laughs too loudly at the girls snogging on the makeshift dance floor, nicks a beer off of some guy who’s too busy sliding his hands underneath some Uni girl’s shirt to miss his beverage and he’s glassy-eyed after an hour, leaning on Liam with slurred words and the lights from that damn strobe light glittering off his lidded blue eyes.

“You, sir, are brilliant,” Niall sighs out, leaning heavily on Liam and Liam really hates that Niall likes the stronger shit, the beers that are thick with that amber scent that clings to your breath and your clothes for hours.

“You’re _pissed_ , Ni,” Liam tells him, sipping slowly on a bottle water he managed to find in one of the rooms.  He’s almost certain someone brought it there by accident.

“You?  I like you,” Niall confesses, words dragging but that smile?  It’s six shades brighter than the sun.

Liam giggles, head shaking.  “You too, mate.”

“I’m serious.  You’re rather ace,” Niall says quickly, his best attempt at sounding serious faltering when a grin trips over his lips.  “I thought, I don’t know, I thought I wouldn’t find friends when I moved here.  But then came Lou, and Zayn, even Harry.  And you.  You, I don’t know, you’re so good to me.  To all of us.”

Liam nods his head slowly, lips taking another ginger sip of his water.

He likes Niall, honestly.  He’s not quite sure when it happened, but he knows there’s something about that constant sunny disposition, that open honesty that Liam can’t quite find in Louis, that thick accent that’s almost always followed by a giggle or a laugh, the way Niall’s not looking for anything more in life than whatever little bit he’s been given.  He clings to Zayn, follows Louis, teases Harry, and helps Liam without question or argument.

Liam smirks, nudging Niall because, yeah, the kid’s not all that bad.  “You’re shitfaced, you know that?”

“I’m in love,” Niall declares with a giggle, cheeks flushed.

Liam lifts his brow, lips pursing before taking another sip.

“Gorgeous lass, I swear.  Fucking beautiful like Cheryl Cole, or Tweedy, or whatever the fuck her name is now,” Niall snorts, dragging a hand over Liam’s buzzed head.  “Name’s Cher.  She just started at the shop that, um, what’s her name works at.”

“El?” Liam offers, amused look slipping over his face when Niall’s eyes light up.

“Eleanor,” Niall laughs, hiccupping a grin out for Liam.  “I’d fuck her too, but don’t tell Lou.”

Liam nods slowly, sucking in his bottom lip as Niall raises his glass in a salute to Louis who’s huddled in the dance floor with some pretty girl with long brunette hair thrusting her hips in front of him while a fit University guy from back home – _Tom?_   _Max?_   No, _Nathan_ – held him from behind, digging his hips into Louis’ ass with his mouth on Louis’ neck.

Louis’ trying hard, hands on her hips, back arching to meet Nathan’s crotch, everything so forced and unsettling but Liam can see it in Louis’ glossy eyes.  He can read it without trying – the way Louis keeps glancing around for someone.  For Harry.  And it’s all such a silly game, the way Louis goes about it.  It’s… _typical_.  It’s hypocritical, the way Louis presses Liam to find someone other than Zayn to focus on, give his heart to.  He snorts lowly—Louis Tomlinson is full of shit.  How can you give your attention to someone else when you spend so much of your time wondering if that other person notices you giving said attention away like free coffee at the donut shop?  Liam tips his head back, wonders how long before Louis’ foolish idea backfires on him.

“Her eyes,” Niall rattles on, lips curling around the neck of his beer bottle.  “And she’s got amazing ink, man.  She’s petite and, fuck, I’d just…”

“Ni,” Liam sighs, turning his eyes on Niall.  There’s that bubbling happiness again and Liam feels sick.  “Think maybe Harry would like to hear about her?”

Niall nods happily, lowering his beer bottle.  “Must find Harry Edward Styles.”

Liam snickers, nudging Niall’s side and he’s quite certain he shouldn’t let Niall wander off but he’d spotted Harry ducking into a room not too far away five minutes ago.  He’d be safe, right?  His first few steps are a little shaky and Liam’s reconsidering the idea completely until a familiar face – _Josh?_   From the pizza place – swoops in, an arm going around Niall’s back and they’re smiling at each other, dazed confusion that settles like a slow dipping sun.  And Josh’s fingers run the back of Niall’s neck, along the short hairs there while Niall eases an arm around Josh’s broad shoulders, thumb tracing over defined muscle for a second too long.

Liam arches his eyebrow but they’re blind to him, laughing together and stumbling toward another room, another song sliding in – _I played it like I hadn’t seen you before_ – something vaguely eighties and vibrant like the spectrum of colors bouncing off the clouds in the sky.  He chews at his lip, watches Louis spin in the girl’s arms, smiling at Nathan with lidded eyes but they flee for just a moment when Harry’s laughter cracks the air, the taller boy moving through the crowd with his hand in some raven-haired girl’s, her skin soft copper, eyes dark, lipstick smudged and Liam’s fairly sure she had left her bra in that other room.

He’s suddenly crowded against the wall behind him, the air pushed out of his lungs for a moment and his fingers ball into fists immediately before his eyes fall on that familiar sideways grin, body tensing at the way Zayn presses up to him.  His hair is wrecked, red lines staining his eyes, his lips dry and chapped and Liam can smell the alcohol, sniffs at that clinging smoke that definitely wasn’t all from cigarettes.  Zayn’s fingers dig into his shirt, his hips grinding down on Liam’s and Zayn doesn’t dance, Liam knows, but he moves like he’s a feathering fire waiting to spread across the fields.

“ _Lee-yum_ ,” Zayn drags out, perked up smile on his lips and he’s so close, his other hand settling on Liam’s hip.  “Missed you.”

Liam settles his eyes on Zayn’s mouth, regretting that decision when the pink of Zayn’s tongue peeks out, wets those lips until they’re shiny and, _fuck_ , Liam wants to lean in so badly.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” Liam stutters out, hands finding Zayn’s hips.  He knows he has the strength to push Zayn away, reason with him until Zayn settles and sort of hangs on Liam like Niall had.

“You did,” Zayn smiles back, head leaning in further and his scruff scratches against the side of Liam’s neck.  His lips mouth at Liam’s birthmark, tongue licking his lips again and it slips across Liam’s neck for a brief second.  “I hate when you’re far from me.”

Liam’s fingers dig into Zayn’s hips, wincing when Zayn groans, grinding harder on Liam.  And, oh, Zayn’s _hard_ and Liam feels it right along his thigh, eyes looking up to the ceiling while trying to will away his own erection – _I keep it cool and I got the conversation you like_.

“I’m right here Zayn,” Liam says with a shudder, regretting the way his spine arches when Zayn’s fingers dig into the nape of his neck, sharp nails marking his skin.

“I know,” Zayn whispers, his breath hot on Liam’s neck.  “You’re so warm, babe.”

Liam digs his teeth into his lip, his hand instinctively running up the small of Zayn’s back, doing his best to control the way Zayn moves.  His legs spread, welcome Zayn between them and his mind feels hazy, a devastating kind of high that he wants to continue – _I know that what we’re after isn’t written in the stars when they fall_.  And Zayn’s lips are dragging gingerly over his neck, small pants leaving Liam’s skin sweaty and hot but he doesn’t force Zayn back.  No, he pulls him _closer_.

“Zayn,” Liam tries to say but it comes out as a groan, his skin a fevered hot.

“Liam,” Zayn moans back, hips rolling just a little too quickly and, shit, their cocks are rubbing against each other in the most satisfying way.  “Don’t push me away, babe.”

Liam nods helplessly, fingers reaching up to pull at the back of Zayn’s thick hair.  He catches the grin that slicks over Zayn’s lips, eyes impossibly dark – _We can still have a little fun tonight ‘cause you know that I can’t say ‘No.’_ – while Liam’s hand dips a little lower, feels the curve of Zayn’s ass.

“You’re amazing,” Zayn says lowly, inching in a little.

“Don’t,” Liam pleas, chewing his bottom lip until it’s raw.

“Liam,” Zayn giggles, head shaking.  His lips are so close, his hand sliding down Liam’s chest, over his abdomen.  “Just let me.”

Liam fights at a nod, eyes shifting tightly shut and he tastes the alcohol on Zayn’s breath, his heart thumping in synch with the music, sweat sliding down the small of his back, hips stuttering when Zayn snickers near his lips, tongue licking out and wetting Liam’s upper lip.

“Can I?”

“Yes,” Liam moans out before any other word can force itself from his chest.

Everything goes sideways – _You’ve got the kinds of loving that’s got me back just like a yo-yo_ – when Zayn’s lips slide wetly against his.  It’s magic, as silly as it sounds, the way he’s tingling and numb all at once.  His fingers dig into Zayn’s back, his head swimming, the fever turning hotter until Zayn shifts a little, lips moving slowly.  There’s nothing rushed about it, the way Liam finds a groove to move with Zayn.  It’s gentle, dancing like a flame until Zayn’s mouth opens, tongue pressing at the seam of Liam’s lips.  And Liam thinks about it, thinks about running away, thinks about finding the nearest girl, slamming her into a wall and forcing his tongue against the roof of her mouth to stop this hazy feeling sweeping over him.

His lips part, the sour taste of beer, weed, cigarette smoke flooding his mouth before he tastes something sweet, something pleasurable in the most amazing way.  There’s a moan at the back of his throat before Zayn’s tongue is licking there, fingernails dragging along Liam’s shoulder while Liam pulls Zayn firmly against him, rutting his hips against Zayn’s.  He feels Zayn’s laughter vibrating in his mouth, angles his head to deepen the kiss, stealing small whimpers from Zayn’s lips – _Now I know you’re trying to keep things light._

Liam pushes Zayn’s hair back from his forehead, sucks on Zayn’s tongue and he misses it when Zayn’s hand slips lower, pops open the first few buttons on his chinos but then Zayn’s hand is slipping under the waistband of his boxers, dragging over the thick, wiry brown hair down there.  But Zayn’s lashes feather against the top of Liam’s cheeks, their lips drawing out a slow pattern like some sort of Chopin masterpiece and every time Zayn tries to pull back, Liam draws him back in with careful kisses that feel smooth like glass and wondrous like the first snowflakes in November.

His head jerks back, lips swollen and raw while Zayn grins lazily at him, sucking on his own bottom lip.  Liam tries to piece together words but then, fuck, Zayn’s fingers are petting over his cock, wrapping loosely around it.  And the first tug, experimental and almost amateurish, has Liam’s toes curling in his trainers, something like a moan dying slowly in his throat.

“Za-Zayn,” he gasps, head jerking backward.

“Come on, Liam,” Zayn snickers lowly, leaning in and his lips trace over Liam’s neck, kiss roughly until Liam thinks the skin there will turn burgundy and purple.  “You always look so, fuck, _tense_ , babe.”

“’m not,” Liam bites back but the words barely break through his lips, Zayn’s strokes becoming a little more confident.

Zayn chuckles darkly against Liam’s neck, thumb pulling back the foreskin.  “It’s okay, Li.  You don’t have to lie to me.”

Liam’s fingers dig into Zayn’s hips and he knows he’s probably leaving behind marks like Zayn’s lips are.  He doesn’t care because, _oh_ , Zayn’s fingers are skilled when they run over the head of Liam’s cock, fingering the slit until they scoop away all the precome and use it for lubrication.  He looks around quickly, sweat cracking on his forehead but no one’s paying attention to them.  They’re all lost in the music, in the dizziness of alcohol and some vibrating feeling that glows all over the dark room – _Our kind of love never leads to intellectual spark._

“Harder, Zayn,” Liam breathes out, eyes sliding shut again when Zayn’s thumb runs along the underside of his cock.  “Fuck, please Zayn.”

“I like the way you say my name,” Zayn whispers, lips dancing over the shell of Liam’s ear.  “Do you sound like that in the bedroom?”

Liam whimpers, bites down hard on his lip to stop himself from telling Zayn the many ways he could find out.

“Nevermind,” Zayn chuckles lowly – _My better sense could stop me from wanting your body, so hey_ – flicking his wrist when he draws back upward.  “I don’t want to know about who’s had a chance to feel you.  Who’s felt _this_ inside of them.  Who you might’ve let inside of you.”

Liam gasps, head tipping further back and Zayn’s ruining him with just his lips now, his hand perfectly still inside of Liam’s boxers while his mouth traces a beautiful pattern across the skin of Liam’s neck.

“Don’t stop,” Liam pleads, chin tipping now and Zayn’s pressing his lips to Liam’s before Liam can say anything else.

Liam shudders when Zayn’s hand moves again, tangled in Liam’s boxers but Liam can still feel the friction, fucks into that palm until it’s sweaty and slicked with Liam’s precome.  He opens his mouth to Zayn’s tongue, traces his own along it, over the roof of Zayn’s mouth, fingers twisting into the fabric of Zayn’s shirt, holding onto the back of Zayn’s neck so he can’t pull too far back.

“Faster.”

“You need this, Liam,” Zayn tells him, a grin folded over his lips.  Liam nods, well, he tries to but their heads are so close, lips teasing each other.  “Fuck, you’re so hard and, wow, I bet this could stretch someone so fucking much, Li.”

Liam swallows Zayn’s moan, kissing roughly against those chapped lips until Zayn’s stroking him a little faster, more determined.

“You don’t know Zayn,” Liam shivers out when he pulls back, hands holding Zayn’s face now, thumbs scrapping along that scruff on his jaw.  There’s a plea in his eyes, emotions swelling just along his chest as his hips work into that hand.  “You have no idea how much – “

“Tell me babe,” Zayn grins, his thumb swiping over the head.  “Fuck, tell me how bad you want to come.”

Liam stiffens at that.  There’s lust in Zayn’s eyes and it aches right along Liam’s shoulders, down his spine.  Teeth chew at his lip and Liam holds onto the words cracking along his throat.  Zayn doesn’t want to hear that.  No, he wants to hear that moan swirling in Liam’s stomach, wants Liam to say his name over and over until he comes.  Wants to know this is just Zayn getting Liam off… not Liam falling further in love with him.

“Fuck,” Liam gasps when Zayn’s wrist flicks once more, Zayn grinning against his cheek and there’s a warm, wet feeling spreading down Liam’s thigh, come coating Zayn’s fingers, his knuckles.  He’s thrusting his hips upward, riding that high out while Zayn kisses along his jaw, at the corner of his mouth, gentling something soft and caring against Liam’s lips.

There’s a tightness in Liam’s stomach seconds after Zayn wipes his hand thoroughly on the inside of Liam’s boxers, that wet, cold feeling crawling over his skin when Zayn pulls out, pats along Liam’s belly playfully before zipping Liam’s chinos back up, fastening the buttons.

“Told you, babe,” Zayn says quietly with a grin, pulling back.  “You just needed to let go.”

Zayn’s wrong.  His fingers hold onto Zayn’s hip, keep him steady as Zayn tries to find his footing, grinning goofily at Liam.  Liam shakes his head, knows he didn’t let anything go.  No, it’s still there, eyes floundering over Zayn’s cheeks, the curve of his jaw, those lips he’s just tasted.  It’s right along his chest, sliding down his skin until he’s fucking _freezing_ in that all too hot room.  It’s aching far too much when Zayn smirks at him, running his thumb along the corner of Liam’s mouth and Liam can smell the muskiness, the headiness of his own scent on Zayn’s skin.

He’s still holding onto all of it until it threatens to break him right in front of Zayn, music thudding – _I know this kind of love don’t last forever. But we had a good time for a while_ – and his world is spinning sickeningly fast when Zayn backs away, nodding at Liam before he’s lost in that sea of moving bodies.

**

There’s a drag to Monday that Liam wishes would go away.  The hours flicker by like the light raindrops shading the streets outside, turning once gray streets a silvery charcoal color.  The customers are further apart than usual, flickering the drops of rain from their umbrellas in the doorway, pulling their hoods back, most refusing to even smile though Harry is standing near the door holding it open for each of them and Niall’s offering fresh coffee – not made by Louis because even Paul knows they can’t afford to lose another customer because of Louis – to each of them, some grinning warmly while others grumble and lose themselves in the stacks of books.  There’s an awful quiet for too long that stirs coldly through the air, nothing but whispered words from the patrons reading to themselves, the slow roll of the stereo playing nothing but sad and enveloping songs that swallow feelings and leave Liam’s skin prickly.

And Louis, even he hasn’t bothered to bark at Harry about the music today.  No, it’s stutter-still softness in the air for far too long and no one will offer a reason why though he’s almost certain they can all see it.

Liam feels it the moment Louis stumbles in that morning – the change.  He grumbles about a hangover for only a few minutes, sliding a beanie over his damp brown hair and grabs stacks of books he refused to put up the night before, hiding away in the Young Adult section when Harry stomps through the door with a grand welcome and too bright smile.  Niall’s not too far behind, bags of takeaway in his hand even though it’s just a little after nine, mouthful of bagel before he sips on his orange juice and settles behind the counter next to Liam.  Zayn’s in an hour later, subtle nods for Louis and Niall, a draining sigh when Harry throws his arms around him for an embrace, and a soft smile that Liam ignores, chewing his bottom lip and keeping his eyes on that silly _House of M_ graphic novel Zayn had pleaded with him to read a year ago, tugging at the edges of the pages until Zayn shrugs off his jacket and follows Louis into the aisles.

Liam’s done well enough not chatting with Zayn since the party.  He does his best to avoid the looks Zayn gives him that next morning, settling himself behind the counter to try and read something – _the Da Vinci Code_?  _Where the Red Fern Grows_?  He’s not quite sure – and Zayn sits next to him for a little while, thumbing through _Green Lantern_ until Niall drags him outside for a game of footy that Liam doesn’t watch from the glass door, doesn’t feel everything itching to go outside and play with them.  He doesn’t hate how every time Zayn sits next to him he smells like cigarettes and that spicy cologne, the one Liam bought him, the one that filters into Liam’s nose and wishes he could bury his face in Zayn’s neck, listen to Zayn read every line from that book of poetry he busies himself with for a few hours, those quiet words of symbolism meaning far more than they were supposed when dripped from Zayn’s lips.

There’s a few chewed out words here and there on Sunday but, thankfully, Zayn leaves early into the evening for dinner with his mum and Liam spends that night wondering if maybe Zayn had a date after that, maybe dinner was with his mum _and_ his date?  Maybe she, possibly he, is important enough to meet Zayn’s mum, make a place for themselves in Zayn’s life that leaves Liam’s stomach coiling.

He doesn’t sleep much that night.  Not even when Louis stumbles into his room, pissed off his arse, and mumbling about how much he hates Harry fucking Styles, though Liam catches Louis’ whispering, _“with his stupid curls, green eyes that I get lost in, and, fuck Li, if he wasn’t so stupid I could fall in love with him”_ before he’s snoring on Liam’s shoulder, fingers digging into Liam’s chest.

“What do you mean you don’t know who Hope Summer is?”

Liam grins at the hiss in Craig’s voice, perfectly round cheeks pushing downward with his frown.  He’s slapping his palms on the counter, glaring at Harry who’s scratching at his temple while trying to bag the large stack of comics Craig’s purchased.

“She swam in the Olympics, yeah?” Harry offers with a shrug, shoveling two copies of _Silver Surfer_ and that much sought after – well, according to some but Liam never paid that issue much attention – copy of _Astonishing X-Men_ where Northstar got married his boyfriend into that paper bag with Craig’s other comics.

“Olympics?  You’re fucking nuts,” Craig says woefully, head thrown back dramatically.  “She’s like, I mean, she’s the _Messiah_.”

“Um, no?” Harry says with a lifted eyebrow, lips curling into a grin.

Craig’s eyes are wide now, fingers sliding against the counter and Liam wonders how long it will be before Craig tries to throttle Harry.

“She saved all of mutant-kind, you daft fool,” Craig groans, eyes sliding shut in frustration.

“That’s the X-Men, right?” Harry wonders lowly, looking past Craig to Liam for assistance.  Liam snorts, head shaking before turning back to the shelves of new comics.

“Some things never change,” comes to the right of Liam, pretty pink nails gliding over a few of the comics before grabbing a copy of _Supergirl_.

Liam pulls back, glowing smile slipping over his lips when he takes in those defined cheeks, wavy brown hair swept up into a ponytail, pink lips pushed into a smile and Phoebe’s just as beautiful as he remembered her with those soft brown eyes, long lashes fluttering when her smile ascends higher.

“They never do,” Liam grins, eyes dragging up and down her body as she adjusts the few books in her arms, eyebrow arching high.

“New guy reminds me of myself when I first started here,” Phoebe adds, sliding around Liam to snatch up a copy of _Fantastic Four_ , nudging her shoulder to Liam’s.  “Hope he survives.”

Liam glances over his shoulder, Craig’s face a solid red now but Harry’s rolling his tongue over an orange lollipop, shoulders lifting every few moments for a shrug, grinning when Craig goes into a row about the fundamentals of Scott Summers and Jean Grey.

“He will,” Liam says with a dripping sense of confidence in his voice.

Phoebe nods, humming lowly to the music sliding through the store – _And I can’t do this by myself. All of these problems, they’re all in your head._   She gives him a wink, shuffling back to his other side to slide a few comics over, making room for the titles coming out tomorrow.  He smirks at her – she still remembers – plucking a copy of _the Flash_ to add to her pile of comics, a quirked grin pulling at the corners of her lips as she snatches it from between his fingers.

“You’ll like it,” Liam assures her, listening to the way her giggle tickles his stomach.

“You always knows best, eh?” Phoebe says teasingly, tapping the end of his nose with her finger until he’s scurrying back with a giggle.

“Wait, you mean to tell me you didn’t know about Jean Grey and Wolverine – “

Liam smirks, peeking over his shoulder and Harry’s leaning on the counter now, nodding along to everything Craig’s rattling off like he cares, tongue dragging that orange off of his lollipop with the slowest of intentions.

“Always Liam,” Phoebe hums, nudging his chin with her finger and he’s following her eyes to Zayn coming around the corner, head down with an open book in one of his hands, arm lifted to drag fingers through his thick hair with the other hand.

Liam blinks at Zayn, settling his breathing for a beat because Zayn is beautiful even when the sky is far too gray for the sun, the poor lighting in the bookshop leaving everything washed out, and Liam’s vision is a little blurry from it all.  Those tattoos tangled around his forearm, Liam memorizing each one, even the ones Zayn got when Liam was in America.  There’s that thick scruff along his jaw, shadowing his cheeks, dark over his upper lip and under his chin that Liam draws his eyes over.  Those circular black earrings too big for his ears, black-framed glasses over his eyes even though Liam knows he doesn’t need them.  He could follow the sharpness of his cheeks, the definition of his jaw with just his eyes though his fingers twitch with a need to feel each line with slow strokes.  Teeth chew at that bottom lip, the one that felt chapped and soft when Liam ran his own lips over it the other night.  The collar of his jersey, some Manchester United one his father no doubt got him, slips low and Liam still wants to drip his fingers over all the new tattoos there, the ones on Zayn’s chest, the new one Liam knows is inked low on Zayn’s waist on the opposite side of where that thick black heart was.

Liam can feel Phoebe smiling against his shoulder – _And I can’t be somebody else. You took something perfect and painted it red_ – humming softly before she’s pulling away, Liam feeling a need to steal his eyes away when Zayn’s head lifts, blinking at Liam for a beat before he’s turning away and moving behind the counter.

“Some things never change,” Phoebe whispers with a smirk, rubbing at the back of Liam’s head and she’s gone just that easily, Liam still trying to fight the way something is ghosting a cold feeling over his heart.

**

“It’s all tongue and hands, I’m telling you.  I am very skilled in this art form.”

Liam’s head lifts from where he’s sitting on one of the tables near the long rows of comics, skimming through a copy of _Green Lantern: Rebirth_ that he’s read over a dozen times but it’s calming in a way he gets lost in the story every time.  His eyebrows draw together when Niall and Louis round the corner, stacks of books in their arms but, somehow, Louis’ still managing to talk with his hands while Niall grins brightly.

“Too much tongue ruins the mood, young Horan,” Louis insists, pointing at Niall with a shaking finger.

“Bullshit,” Niall laughs out, cheeks pushing wider and higher all at once.  “I have no complaints.”

“You also have no returning customers,” Louis points out with his eyebrow arched.

Niall thinks this over, stopping in front of the counter and Liam can count the thoughts drifting weightlessly through those seashore blue eyes.  He snorts lowly, Niall scratching at the back of his head, tongue sticking out at Louis.

“There’s Cher,” Niall exclaims, finger pointed high in the air like he’s figured something out.

“She’s all bubblegum and a pint, Horan.  Name another,” Louis sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose before setting the books on the counter in front of Harry who’s looking over a few Nirvana records Paul’s managed to collect over the years.  Liam wonders if Harry’s more ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ or ‘Heart-Shaped Box,’ musing over this for a beat before Niall’s dropping his books on the counter with a thud, rubbing at his neck.

“That girl from the bakery?” Niall offers.

“Bullshit,” Louis says with a snicker.  There’s no one in the shop now, not that Louis would refrain from using foul language anyways, but it’s a calm feeling sinking over Liam knowing no one can be offended by their words.

“I did!” Niall argues, a pout falling over his lips.

“What was her name?” Louis challenges, leaning in with a sneer.

“Jess.  Or Jade.  Wait, no, Rebecca?” Niall stumbles out, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink before Louis’ doubling over with laughter, Niall’s face wrinkling.

“Fucking bullshit, I swear Horan,” Louis says between laughs, fingers tickling at Niall’s ribs until he’s leaping back with a laugh, giving Louis another playful shove.

“Her name was Rosy Palms and she brought her five friends along,” Harry teases, lifting his hand while waving all of his fingers, making a gesture that has Liam blushing _for_ Niall, ducking his head while chewing at his lip.  He should be reading, honestly, because the three of them were an awful combination.

Niall flips Harry off with a wide grin, leaning against the counter.

Liam peeks past him to where Zayn’s nestled into the chair Liam usually occupies, feet kicked up on the counter with his head bowed, reading something that Liam can’t make out but he sees the corners of Zayn’s mouth twitching, grins to himself.  He wonders if Zayn smells more like cigarettes or that sticking scent of rain.  He decides he shouldn’t think about that, let alone try to fill that itch inside of him to walk behind the counter, settle beside Zayn and sip at the tea Zayn brought him this morning with his back pressed to Zayn’s chest while Zayn read softly to him.

Fuck, he needs somewhere else to work.

“Well, what about _you_?” Niall asks, defiant grin on his lips.

Louis’ throws a hand over his chest, doing his best to look innocent.  “I don’t like frequent buyers.  I prefer new clientele all the time.”

Niall snorts out a laugh, Zayn’s lips pushing sideways and Harry’s leering at Louis, tongue rolling effectively slow over the top of his blue lollipop, lips still smeared orange from the one from earlier but his tongue is an awesome pattern of orange and blue streaks that’s, well, _distracting_ not that Liam has spent much time looking.  It’s just sort of there.

“You’re insane,” Niall says between laughs, hopping onto the counter.

“I’m not,” Louis argues lightly, putting his weight on the elbow he has propped on the counter.  “I’d like to think of myself as fascinating.”

“You’re a proper dick,” Zayn says, head finally lifting.

“And you’re rude,” Louis says right back with a haughty grin.

Zayn doesn’t disagree, shrugging his shoulders before lowering his head back into his book.

“I’m telling you Lou – hands _and_ tongue.  You can’t go wrong,” Niall declares, head tilted back so he can look down on Louis.

Louis shakes his head quickly, leaning further on the counter until he’s pushing the books out of the way and he’s closer to Harry.  He tilts his head in Harry’s direction, brow lifted with a sweet smile rolling over his mouth.

“Styles, do tell this nut that it’s not all tongue and hands,” Louis pleads with batting lashes.

Harry shrugs, popping the offending piece of candy from his lips.  “It can be.”

Louis scoffs at him, brow wrinkling.  “You’re mad.”

“Ha!” Niall barks out, rolling laughter breaking his lips.  “I have a pretty impressive technique.”

“You have a pretty impressive way of bullshitting,” Louis insists, eyes narrowing at Niall.

Niall’s shoulders lift and fall just as quickly, twiddling his hands in his lap.  “No complaints.”

“Your hand can’t talk back,” Louis laughs back, Harry’s laughter blending with Louis’.

Niall fakes an offended expression before flipping them both off this time, leaning back.  His feet kick back and forth, head rocking side to side to whatever soft rock song – _The Eagles?_ – is strumming through the stereo and it’s something about a hotel in California, not that Liam’s giving it enough attention.

“Most girls – “

“ _Most girls_ must be hammered to sleep with you, yeah?” Louis snickers, Harry’s hand on his shoulder and Liam thinks it’s the first time Louis hasn’t shrugged away from him, not that he’s keeping track of silly things like that.

“Oh, fuck off!” Niall hiccups out a laugh, nose crinkling when his laugh gets broader.

“You lot are fucking mental,” Zayn mutters, a small chuckle slipping past his lips.

Liam looks up with a grin, eyes catching Zayn’s for a second.  His teeth pull in his bottom lip, Zayn tipping his head back slightly and the dull lights flicker off those caramel eyes, something twisting around Liam’s stomach, his fingertips cold when they stroke the back of his neck.  He watches the corners of Zayn’s lips lift a little, smooth edge to his jaw and Liam thinks he could be downright fuckable in these quiet moments.  It’s even more distracting than Harry’s tongue curling around that lollipop again.

“You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain,” Liam whispers lowly, mouth spreading when Niall gapes at him, Louis and Harry too busy teasing each other to care but Zayn’s smile is widening, eyes like a cluster of stars with long lashes sweeping over his cheeks before he’s chuckling, tongue pressed to the back of his teeth.

The oxygen sticks to Liam’s lungs for that brief moment.

“Sometimes it’s a little more than tongue though, Nialler,” Harry says with a matter-of-fact quality to his tone.  His words are directed toward Niall but his green eyes, the ones that are turning a shade darker, are focused on Louis.  He’s sweeping those curls off of his head, dragging his eyes over Louis’ curling mouth before adding, “It’s about the feeling behind it.  It’s about letting someone know what you’re thinking without saying it.”

Louis’ gaping at Harry, all wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open, and Harry’s lips are curling into the kind of smirk that could trick the devil.  Liam laughs to himself because, well, maybe that’s _exactly_ what Harry’s doing.

“But you got to have the hands, yeah?  The hands make the kiss,” Niall insists, leaning forward as Harry is inclining toward Louis.

Harry nods slowly, cherry lips parting.  “Definitely the hands Niall,” his tongue swiping over his lips, “because without the hands, you can’t control what’s happening.”

Liam sucks in a breath with Louis, eyes wider than he thinks possible and when Harry’s large hand strokes that tan cheek, fingers inching up into Louis’ hair to drag him that short distance left, Liam’s fingers dig into his own thigh until Harry’s lips are slotted against Louis, eyes closed while Louis’ remain opened.  He swallows, wonders if Louis’ panicking, wrestling with his thoughts but then Louis’ hand is skating over the counter.  That sweaty palm is streaking over the wood, the sound echoing over the music, Niall wheezing in a breath before Louis tangles his fingers in the fabric of Harry’s shirt, dragging him closer.

It’s almost like a tribal dance, the way their mouths move together.  It’s the bang on a pair of bongos, the thunder rumbling low outside.  It’s a little too fast, like they’re trying to strip each other of that last bit of oxygen in their lungs.  Liam thinks it’s a little carnal, Louis’ eyes finally shutting while Harry’s hand becomes a little more possessive on his cheek.  He sees the strip of pink from their tongues, teeth biting, brows furrowing because they both want control.  It’s a struggle, noses bumping, red lips against pink ones, something choked like a moan but then Harry’s giving up, fingers stroking through Louis’ hair as Louis pushes up on that counter to get his tongue further down Harry’s throat.

The flickering flame dies a little when Harry jerks back, lips wet with saliva and Louis’ lips have a light blue tinge to them from Harry’s tongue and mouth.  There’s something electric-shocking in Harry’s eyes, Louis’ hollow and dark like the sky when the moon streaks it a cool navy shade.  Harry’s cheeks are flushed red, Louis’ pink, and their breathing is more than a little unsettled.

Niall squeaks when Harry falls back into the chair next to Zayn, dragging shaking fingers through those thick curls while Louis slumps on the counter, eyes lowering while his fingers trace the muscles of Hulk’s green skin on that stupid poster Liam left on the counter earlier.  Harry’s tongue runs over his lips, Liam wondering if Louis can taste the sugary candy from Harry on his own lips… or maybe he just tastes Harry.

“Yeah, hands _and_ tongue,” Niall breathes out, his voice shaking Harry and suddenly those green eyes are on Niall rather than Louis.

Zayn snorts, head shaking before pushing out of his chair.  He tosses his book into Harry’s lap, feathering his fingers over his soft hair.  The quiff isn’t there today and Liam sort of loves how strands of that thick hair fall over Zayn’s forehead, how it sits there unmoving unless Zayn touches it.  He’s chewing on his thumbnail, smirking at Niall who’s watching him as he eases around the sharp corner of the counter, Liam’s heart doing a little syncopated rhythm like the beat of drums in a Middle Eastern melody.  He breathes out an unsteady breath, watches the way Zayn drags his thumb over his bottom lip, eyes fixing on Liam and Harry’s peeking over the counter, Louis’ eyes still focused on the counter and that silly Hulk poster.

“It’s not Niall,” Zayn finally says, stopping in front of Liam.  He eases a finger under Liam’s chin, something wicked pulling at his lips.  “Sometimes it’s just the right person.  Sometimes it’s, well, it’s more about your lips instead of all the other stuff.”

Liam tips his head back, the rush of fever prickling his skin.  Zayn’s fingers are running over the scruff beneath Liam’s chin, his eyes narrowed but Liam thinks he can pick out all the colors in them without trying.  And there’s a curl to Zayn’s upper lip when he grins, the way his scruff is shadowing the lines in his face, the little things Liam could pick out with his eyes closed.

“The tongue is a cheap trick,” Zayn notes, craning his neck while leaning down.  Liam watches the way Zayn’s tongue wets his lips.

“And the hands?  They’re not there for control,” Zayn adds, his voice thick and almost carnal.  Liam wants to taste that accent on his lips.

Liam shivers when Zayn’s hand strokes down his cheek, dragging along his jaw, small nails prickling his skin.  A shuddering breath, the fire catching, his legs spreading until Zayn scoots forward, fits between Liam’s knees.  His grin turns sideways, Liam’s own lips parted to let out those burning strips of oxygen from his lungs.

“The hands are there for comfort,” Zayn says as if he’s instructing Niall and if Liam could tear his eyes away from Zayn, he’d peer over to Niall to see if he’s scribbling all of this down in a notebook while staring at them.  But he can’t.  The muscles in his stomach are tightening, pushing out every last breath and Zayn smells like home, definitely like comfort.

“It’s all about the lips,” Zayn mutters again, Liam pushing up and pressing his lips firmly against Zayn’s before he can say anything else.

There’s an urgency in the way Liam kisses, fingers digging into Zayn’s shoulder like he’s too hot.  Like he can’t breathe.  Like he needs it all to stop but he can’t pull back, moving roughly over Zayn’s lips until Zayn retreats a little, lips still near.

“It’s okay,” Zayn whispers against his lips, settling his lips to Liam’s again for a beat.  “Just let me.”

Liam knows he shouldn’t be a victim to that voice again but he is.  He’s falling, Alice sliding down the rabbit hole to Wonderland, Zayn’s fingers curling around the back of his neck and he’s dizzy before he can catch his breath.  He’s caught in the undertow, the way Zayn’s lips wash over his, his fingers digging into Zayn’s hip, holding him close even though he’s fairly certain Zayn’s not going anywhere.  His feet hook around the back of Zayn’s thighs, lashes fluttering against his cheeks while Zayn moves slow and gentle.

He breathes through his nose, lips parting for Zayn but there’s no tongue.  Zayn’s kissing at his lips, teeth nipping at the bottom one before pressing a little harder.  Liam’s swaying, ribbons of red across his eyelids, Zayn’s thumb stroking at the side of his neck.  There’s a moan and he’s not sure if it’s him or Zayn but it trembles down his spine, pushes at his lungs.  He can taste the mint from Zayn’s mouthwash, the honey from the tea Zayn stole a few sips from earlier, the rancid taste of cigarettes that Liam thinks he can live with if it meant he could kiss Zayn every morning, all afternoon, well into the dark of the night.

Zayn’s nails drag down the back of his head, lips slick with spit and they slip off of Liam’s before quickly fastening again, stifling whatever Liam wants to tell Zayn.  Silk slides over his skin when his fingers slip beneath Zayn’s shirt, Zayn’s skin hot like the tips of a flame but Liam keeps dragging his own over Zayn’s hip, across his stomach.  There’s a sting in his muscles when Zayn’s nails dig into his shoulder, hands grabbing at Zayn’s hips to try and lift him because, fuck, Liam wants to knock over all those damn comic books so he can lay back with Zayn on top of him.

He tips his head back, Zayn’s nose nuzzling his, lips light and airy over Liam’s when the kisses go a little slower, softer.  They’re just small pecks now, a fevered dance that makes Liam feel like he’s underwater, suffocating for air.  But Zayn’s breathing for him, scruff dragging over Liam’s skin, thrumming in the way their fingers touch pressure points, dips in the skin, stiffened muscles.

Zayn pulls back, eased footsteps as he moves backward, his fingers dragging down Liam’s cheek before his hand falls to his side.  Liam swallows thickly, little pants wheezing through his swollen lips, blinking at Zayn until Zayn offers him a gentle smile, nodding.

“ _Fuck_.” Niall’s hissing voice draws Liam’s eyes, his hands still shaking as Zayn walks back toward the counter.  Harry’s grinning high and unabashed but Louis’ frowning at him, brow lowered and Liam knows why.

The ring of the door catches their attention, Louis sucking in a breath that alarms Liam.  He leans forward, tries to look past the rows of used DVD’s but he can hear her before he sees her.  He smells that sweet perfume, his nose wrinkling.

“Zayn.”

There’s something indifferent about Zayn’s smile when he looks at her, the way it catches his mouth but doesn’t settle in naturally.  And Harry’s looking up curiously, Niall trading glances between Zayn and Liam until it all feels a bit ridiculous.

“One second Dee,” Zayn says with a patterned grin that feels a bit fake but who was Liam to decide?  It’s not like he knew what exactly was going on between Danielle and Zayn.  It’s not as if he wanted to know, though he listens closely whenever Louis and Niall whisper about it in the back of the shop, huddled between the Art and Mystery sections.

“Lunch date?” Louis asks in a cool voice, looking at Zayn rather than Danielle who’s shaking out her umbrella, drawing her fingers through that thick curly hair.

Zayn snatches up his leather jacket, sharp nod at Louis before he’s gazing at Liam for a beat, eyes lidded.

Liam chews on his lip, glances over Danielle who offers with a curt smile, cheeks rosy and brown eyes wide.

“Try not to set this place on fire while I’m gone,” Zayn mutters, clapping a hand on Niall’s shoulder before slipping by him, narrowing his eyes at Louis who’s grinning smugly at Zayn.  Zayn doesn’t bother to look at Liam, skirting an arm around Danielle’s petite shoulders and he’s pulling her from the shop quickly, his head lowered.

“Liam,” Harry says lowly, leaning on his elbows.

Niall’s blinking at him, Louis sighing lowly.  There’s words in their eyes but no one says anything.  They don’t need to – He’s fairly good at making himself feel pathetic without them reminding him.

Liam looks away, chin lowering, his world upside down and shredded just that quickly.

**

Liam doesn’t notice it at first.  Not on Tuesday during the rush, not once on Wednesday, but somewhere around the middle of Thursday when it’s not as quiet as normal but they’re all putting up an effort to keep things calm and steady – He’s watching Zayn.

Sure, he’s done it more times than he can count, but those times were for a reason.  Zayn was on his mind or he said something particularly funny or he smelled so intoxicating that Liam sort of had to settle his eyes on him for hours rather than do important things like reorganizing the children’s books – not that that section would ever be organized because kids were constantly raiding it and putting things where they didn’t belong.  But still, he’s doing it unabashedly while Zayn sits in a corner of the aisles, head lowered again while thumbing through _the Princess Bride_.

Liam leans on a few shelves, frowning at the way Zayn laughs to himself, fingers running over his lips thoughtfully before turning the page.  Liam tips his head back, aching sigh holding in his chest, scanning over the way Zayn’s got his hoodie pulled tightly over his shoulders, trainers to his left with a pile of books to his right.  His tight jeans are pulling along his thighs, scattered tattoos showing when Zayn pushes up the sleeves of his hoodie and he doesn’t notice Liam.  Liam wonders if he ever does.

They were sixteen the first time it happened, by accident, of course – _Well you’re the closest thing I have to bring up in a conversation about a love that didn’t last._ They were fighting over that silly Mario Kart game that Zayn repeatedly begged Liam to play.  Just a struggle over a controller, laughing wildly, tumbling around Zayn’s bed.  He can remember how sweet Zayn’s breath was from the piles of candy he’d eaten, the way Zayn’s soft fingers tickle up his side while Liam’s foot flew into Zayn’s side.  The pillows fell first, the controller next.  He remembers landing on his back, breathless, Zayn toppling on him and those fingers wouldn’t stop tickling Liam.  He can still see the flush to Zayn’s cheeks, the way he chewed at his bottom lip innocently.

“Wanker,” Liam breathed out, pushing at Zayn’s shoulder but Zayn was pinning him to the bed, straddling his thighs.

“Oi, watch your language,” Zayn teased him with those long lashes hiding pieces of those gold-flecked brown eyes.  “My mum’s downstairs you shit.”

Zayn’s laughter was intoxicating, Liam’s fingers digging into Zayn’s hips, holding him still but they were kids high on root beer, candy, and exhaustion.  And then Liam was tickling his fingers up Zayn’s stomach, the smaller boy losing his balance and falling further onto Liam, laughing into his neck.  Those cheeks were scarlet, eyes lined with joyful tears, and when Zayn tried to jerk back, his nose brushed over Liam’s.  His breath hitched, tongue swiping over dry lips.  When he tried to roll, pin Zayn, Zayn fought him – fuck, he was strong to be so small – and Liam could remember the way the overhead light haloed over Zayn, brought out the rich gold in his complexion.

“I’m going to kick your arse next round,” Zayn giggled out, his nose nuzzling over Liam’s cheek that time.

Liam can still feel the way the oxygen slid from his lungs with a chuckle – _But I could never call you mine ‘cause I could never call myself yours_ – his fingers running along Zayn’s chin, his cheek.

And then another struggle, fingers racing to tickle the other faster and it was just the smallest of brushes, chapped lips running over Liam’s slick ones before Zayn was leaning in, slotting his mouth to Liam’s for a few breaths.  Liam felt it, down in his groin, right along the center of his heart before Zayn was giggling against Liam’s mouth, pulling back.  Those eyes, wide and flickering lashes moving with his laughter, held Liam down for a moment before Zayn was rolling off of him, panting on his back while drawing circles over Liam’s chest with his hand.

“I get Lugi next round,” Zayn gasped out, a quiet chuckle following.

Liam simply nodded, feels himself doing it now while watching Zayn lick at his thumb, turning the page again.

There were the days behind the school, Liam laughing helplessly at some stupid joke Louis had told him but Liam was never good at repeating them, stumbling over every punchline while Zayn’s lips curled into a smile around his cigarette.  Zayn would fiddle with the collar of his button down, his blazer folded and hanging off of his shoulder while he took another slow drag from his smoke.  Liam would choke on the laughter, and the smoke, fingers pinching at Zayn’s shoulder until they were laughing together at nothing at all – _And if we were really meant to be, well then we just defied destiny_.

“You’re shit at telling jokes, Liam,” Zayn would tell him with a grin, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth.

“Yes, well,” Liam would shrug, nudging Zayn’s shoulder with his own.  And they’d laugh again, low and uneven until it felt like they knew what the other was thinking without trying.

Liam would watch the long field of green from the fence, classmates practicing for that big game on Friday, kicking the ball far down the pitch with howls and laughter.  He chews on his bottom lip, the way his head would tip back, everything inside of him wishing he was on that field, living that moment without the fear of his health or simply not being good enough.  A frown pulled at his lips until Zayn took a final pull of that fag, dropping it to the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of his trainers.

“You don’t need them.”

Liam would shake his head, eyes lowering.  His hands would drag along the sides of his chinos, wiping away the sweat until Zayn linked their pinkies, holding his hand still.  Brown eyes would find hazel – _It’s not that our love died; just never really bloomed_ – and their smiles would lift together.

“I’ll always have you, yeah?”

Zayn’s nod was always small, teeth holding in his bottom lip, but his eyes?  Those eyes would tell a million stories of hope and truth.  It would tingle in his stomach, lightheaded sensation he loved until Zayn was snorting, kicking at Liam’s foot with his own.

“Pretty fucked up future, you think?”

Liam snorts lowly because, yeah, pretty fucked up indeed.

“I don’t know.  Wouldn’t mind you always being around.”

“Yeah?” Zayn’s eyes would brighten a little more – _No, I can’t let go of you. You’re holding me back without even trying to_.

“Yeah,” Liam breathed out, head tilting as the traces of Zayn’s smoke curled around them, pinkies still locked together like an unspoken promise.

Liam tips his chin down, smiling while dragging his foot along the carpet of the shop.  Zayn’s humming to himself, something light and romantic, flipping to another page before pushing fringe back from his forehead.  His leg shakes, peaceful grin smoothing over those pink lips, cheeks hollowing for a long breath before his fingers drum on his thigh – _Without lifting a finger, you’re holding me back._

They were eighteen when Liam had too many beers at Cher’s birthday party, stumbling outside to wretch whatever silly party favors he’d eaten all over her mum’s beautiful row of roses.  His head was dizzy, flashes of colors behind his eyelids, and that hand on his back – smooth circles, light pressure, careful strokes that were comforting and warm all at once.

“I think I drank too much.”

“You’re wasted.  You never get drunk, Liam.”

That hand on his back was gone, everything spinning to the left, no, _the right_ , and he doesn’t think he can stand upright if he tried but then that hand is sliding over his, turning them together until it’s palm to palm, long fingers sliding between his thick ones, catching that _‘ZAP!’_ tattoo from the corner of his eye with its bright red and yellow coloring.  He’s steady, _shitfaced_ , but steady, and when he goes to lift his head, Zayn’s there.  He’s wiping the sweat from his brow, smiling wide like he knows what Liam can’t say, gripping his hand a little firmer while the world tips back and forth.

“I can’t go back in there.”

“Can you walk?”

Liam was terrified to shake his head, let alone find the words to form on his tongue.

“You can stay at mine, Liam.  Wouldn’t want your sisters calling your folks all the way in – “

“Savannah,” Liam giggled out.  Zayn still had trouble properly pronouncing the word.

“Right,” Zayn smiled back, foot dragging on the lawn as he moved closer, his free hand dragging gently up and down Liam’s side.

“You’ll share the duvet this time?”

Zayn snorted, nodding.  Those touches were warmer now, just beneath Liam’s jumper and that sick feeling at the pit of his stomach was subsiding as he tried to put all of his focus on the way the moon shattered light over Zayn’s features – _No, we didn’t die. We just never had a chance to grow._

“You’re not going to make it far in this life without me, huh?”

“Is it wrong that I don’t want to know the answer to that question?” Liam asked, tipping forward on unsteady feet until his head rested on Zayn’s shoulder, hand shifting from Liam’s side to the small of his back.  Comforting circles again, so slow, so gentle.

“No, not at all,” Zayn whispered against his ear and Liam could feel the smile spreading over those pinks lips.

_Emily_.  He tried hard to forget her name, or the fact that she always kissed with her eyes open and those kisses tasted like Cherry Coke more than half the time.  Or that he dated her because she had eyes sort of like Leona Lewis’ and she was sort of brilliant, if not snobbish.  She liked Manchester United, was awful at singing even though she sang everything on the radio too loudly, and she thought comics were for ten year old boys.  She broke up with him when he wouldn’t have sex with her – or maybe she cheated on him; he wasn’t really good at remembering all the facts – and she called back _three_ times that evening to confirm that she’d never take him back.  Not unless he wanted to come over and fuck her right then.  He hung up on her and deleted her number.

“I’m telling you, Black Widow is incredibly fit,” Zayn whispered that night, huddled on the couch in Liam’s flat with a small blanket covering their legs, the ones that were tangled together beneath it.

Liam still couldn’t remember why the lights were off, but _oh_ – “Come on Liam, it’s like being at the cinema.” – but he could remember how warm Zayn was compared to the double fudge chocolate ice cream Zayn kept shoveling up, licking away a tiny portion of it before feeding Liam the rest on a plastic spoon because, yeah, Zayn knew about that fear and it was not open for discussion.  _Ever_.

“So you’d fuck a double agent?” Liam wondered, head tilting back while grinning when Agent Coulson stood up for Thor, and all of mankind.

“No,” Zayn replied hurriedly with a snort, pushing the spoon against Liam’s lips until they parted.

“Hawkeye?” Liam offered, pushing the ice cream around his mouth.  That shiver still crept down Liam’s spine, the way Zayn’s warm thumb wiped the corner of his mouth of melted ice cream before Zayn was pulling it back, sucking away the sweetness with a smirk.

“No, Liam!” Zayn shrieked with a laugh, playful shove knocking Liam off balance.

“The Hulk?”

Zayn’s eyes rolled, head shaking.  He was scooping up more ice cream, flinching when Loki stabbed Coulson from behind.  His eyes turned away immediately and Liam thinks now it was instinct that made him pull Zayn closer, arm going around those shoulders until Zayn stopped shaking – _And it may not make much sense to you or any of my friends but, somehow still, you affect the things I do_.  And the dark couldn’t hide those eyes, the way they looked up through those long lashes with the light from the telly bathing that golden skin in blues and silvers.

“I bet it’s Captain America,” Liam said playfully, tongue sticking out when Zayn’s eyes went wide.

“You found me out.  I have a thing for tights and the shield,” Zayn said with a barking laugh, dragging his tongue over the ice cream, lips sticky with chocolate.

“I knew it!”

Their laughter stuck to the walls, silence taking its place minutes later.  Liam wraps his arms around himself, his shoulder warming while thinking about the way Zayn rested his head there, blindly feeding Liam a few more scoops of ice cream while eyeing the screen.  Zayn’s feet were warm, sliding over Liam’s ankles, his knee shifting, rubbing on the inside of Liam’s thigh.  That hair was stiff from too much product and Liam can remember Louis telling him later, when Zayn was passed out on the couch, that Zayn had plans to go out with some incredibly beautiful girl – _Oh. Perrie_ – he’d just met.  That ache pushing at his heart, the one that reminds him Zayn pushed her aside when Liam called him, his voice choked on tears because he kind of liked Emily.  He honestly did.

“She was a bitch, you know that Liam,” Zayn told him, shifting closer to the warmth of Liam’s body.

Liam nodded, exhaling lowly.  “I know.”

“Something better will find you,” Zayn added lowly, his hand pushing against Liam’s chest, resting over his heart.  Liam thinks he heard it when Zayn whispered, _“found you,”_ but it’s drown out by Loki’s voice.

“You wouldn’t do that, would you Zayn?” Liam doesn’t even know why he asked the question, looking down through his lashes to where Zayn remained unmoving against him – _And you can’t lose what you never had. I don’t understand why I felt sad every time I see you out with someone new._

“What?  Leave you if you wouldn’t have sex with me?” Zayn giggled out, fingers drumming over Liam’s chest.

The cold from the ice cream couldn’t cool the fever that rushed his cheeks.

“No, Liam.  Not even for Captain America,” Zayn replied lowly and Liam believed him.  Liam _believes_ him, not that it mattered much, yeah?  He’d never know.

“This world’s a cruel place, Li, if you let it be,” Louis whispers and Liam shakes, nearly knocks Louis into the Foreign Language section but Louis catches him, instinct to punch Louis in the face dying slowly.

Liam glances downward, Zayn still unmoved, grinning as he flips to the next page and something thumps heavy against Liam’s chest.  He settles back against the shelving, Louis resting his chin on Liam’s shoulder and Liam imagines Louis has to stand on his tiptoes to do so.  He snorts at that, a quick glance down confirming this and there’s something sort of comical about the fact that Louis sometimes walks around on that ratty carpet in just his bare feet.

“What are you going on about?” Liam says between his teeth, his voice hushed.

“Come on Liam,” Louis whispers back, tilting his chin until his nose is pressing into that space between Liam’s shoulder and neck.  Liam can feel Louis’ smile on the back of his shoulder, just above his shoulder blade.

“What, you little prick?” Liam sighs, head tilting further back.

“Look at him.  That’s all you do.  But Zayn?  He does so much more,” Louis says, his words hissed but Liam can feel that hedge of protectiveness in his voice.  “His attention is given to whatever girl he’s interested in.  Or chap.  He… he lives life.  He’s not waiting on anything, _anyone_.

“And _you_ ,” Louis drags it out, Liam’s eyes sliding shut.  “You keep hoping – “

“I’m _not_ hoping,” Liam argues softly, shifting his weight to his other foot.  He folds his arms over his chest, breathing uneven again and Niall’s coming around the other corner, snorting before settling down next to Zayn on the floor.

“You’re hoping,” Louis says with a little more haste.  “You’re hoping you can be him.”

Liam blinks at Niall, then Zayn, Zayn’s head lifting and he’s grinning, patting at Niall’s knee before scooting closer, pointing out passages in the book for Niall.  They’re laughing together, smiles pushed wide.  Zayn’s pushing at the snapback on Niall’s head, ruffling the fringe at the front, knocking his shoulder into Niall’s.

“You’re hoping you can be _any_ of them, Li,” Louis sighs, fingers pressing into the small of Liam’s back.  Fuck, they don’t feel as comforting as Zayn’s.  They’re invading, sharp stings over his nerves.  “And I’m hoping you’ll remember you deserve everything this fucked up world has to give.”

Liam snorts, pained smile on his lips.  His brow furrows, arms dropping down to his sides.  Eyes narrow when Zayn licks his thumb, turns the page, lets Niall lean in closer to read out the first few sentences.  He can feel his heart move like heavy percussion against his ribs, the blood surging through his veins like an impossible fire.

“I never forgot Lou,” Liam exhales out, pushing off those shelves and he doesn’t care that a few books fall down or that he knocks into a Uni student when he’s going to move away before Zayn’s eyes can find his.

He’s pushing by a few other customers, his heart racing in that uncomfortable way, his mind a blur of _fuck, shit, get out_ and Louis?  Best mate or not, he couldn’t look at him.  He couldn’t turn around when Louis called for him, couldn’t stop when Harry gave him a curious look from behind the counter, and he’s pushing through the shop door without so much as blinking an eye at any of them.

The air is thick and cool, a light breeze sweeping through it, and it’s dark outside, the sky that swirling purple it always is a little after eight.  His trainers scuff along the parking lot and he’s not really sure where to go.  He could walk home, it wasn’t that far, or maybe he could walk somewhere else.  Maybe he could go find a hole and fucking fall in so he wouldn’t have to deal with all of these feelings that were suddenly clawing at his skin and, _shit_ , he can’t stop pacing around in circles until he sees the same piece of chewed up bubblegum he’s passed _six_ times already before he’s moving in another direction.

He settles on the curb outside of the coffee shop, drawing his knees to his chest before rocking slowly back and forth.  He knows leaving wasn’t much of an option.  Paul trusted him to close the shop tonight and trusting Louis and Harry to take care of it was like trusting a couple of six year olds to drive your car to the corner.  His eyes shift shut, sucking in a deep breath, exhaling through his nose while the slow floating sound of music coming from the open door of Mark’s Guitars filtered into the square – _When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city to see a marching band._

Liam drags the heels of his trainers along the asphalt, eyes batting open only when he hears a throat being cleared, tipping his head back to look up as Harry slowly lowers himself onto that space on the curb next to Liam.  He’s swirling a red lollipop, probably cherry this time, back and forth with his tongue, hands resting on his knees with his curls pushed far back off of his face.

“Lou sent you?” Liam asks, his voice tense but low.

Harry shakes his head slowly, his expression blank.  He blinks at Liam like he’s waiting.  Like he’s giving Liam the opportunity and, yeah, he’s letting Liam _breathe_.

“This place,” Liam starts, waving his hand around as if to make a sign that Harry nods along to, “has been my whole life.  Zayn and Lou?  They’re my life.  And I don’t really know when it started, you know?  I’ve known Louis so long that he is that brother I sort of never wanted but got.”

Liam chuckles lowly at that, rubbing at the back of his neck.  He shifts his eyes on Harry who blinks at him, tongue pushing the lollipop to the other side of his mouth.

“And Zayn,” Liam sighs, chin resting on his knees.  “He’s my best mate, you know.  There’s no question about that.  But, it’s like, there’s something else between us.  Something that, I think, sometimes he notices too.  But maybe he doesn’t.  Maybe I’ve been imagining it for so many years that I started to believe that every single time I see him, he feels it.”

Harry draws a little closer, still silent.  Press of the tongue, swirl of the lollipop, green eyes still blinking.

“And Lou is right.  I do, I get jealous.  I hate when someone else gets that close,” Liam admits softly, eyes dropping.  He toes at the ground, tries to break through the stiff asphalt.  “I wish I could say I knew when I fell but I can’t and, _fuck_ , it’s a hard thing to deal with, okay?  Caring about two people that much and never wanting them to leave.  Never wanting someone else to replace who you are in their lives?  Fuck, it’s a lot to shoulder.”

Harry nods slowly, still licking at his lollipop and Liam watches his Adam’s apple bob, the air still silent between them except the words pushing through the speakers too many feet away – _He said, ‘Son, when you grow up, would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned?’_

“They will one day though, leave me.  One day I’ll come back from visiting my parents and, well, they’ll have left all of this behind,” Liam spits out with a bitter laugh, a wetness sticking to his lashes.  He doesn’t think he’s ever said it aloud and wasn’t that supposed to make you feel better?  To finally get something off of your chest?  It didn’t.  A little, but not enough.

Harry’s lips twist sideways, lashes curling against his cheeks before he glazes his eyes over Liam again.

“But they’re my best mates,” Liam adds quietly, rocking again – _‘Because one day I’ll leave you’_ – chin resting on his knees once more.

Harry pulls the lollipop from his lips, a wet _‘pop’_ echoing just before the swell of music, the proud instrumental blares into the square, dances into the night air.  There’s a smile slicking over Harry’s ruddy lips, dimples showing, a softness to his eyes that Liam only sees when Louis’ not around.

“You’ve got nice eyes,” Harry says with that smirk.

It’s Liam who blinks at him now, eyebrows setting, lips pushing outward.

“What?”

“You’ve got really nice eyes,” Harry repeats like any of that even made sense.  He bares his teeth, head tilting a little.  “Kind eyes, actually.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Liam snaps, giving Harry an incredulous look.

Harry snorts, drawing his tongue over that almost dissolved lollipop.  He pushes back sections of those curls, head bobbing a little to the wail behind them – _We’ll carry on. And in my heart, I can’t contain. The anthem won’t explain it._

“You’ve got kind eyes.  I see why everyone likes you.  It’s your eyes.  They’re soft and, I guess, they feel like they can trust you.  Like you’re going to hold them all together, whether they’re broken or not.  Like you can take it, this world and all of its bullshit,” Harry explains, his tone even and slightly amused.  His hand reaches out, fingers running lightly over Liam’s cheek, brushing away a wayward tear Liam hadn’t notice slipping from his eye.

“But when _he_ looks in your eyes,” Harry continues, smile shifting lower but it’s still there, “he sees that you’re not unbreakable.”

Liam clears his throat, heart wedged in his throat, rocking a little slower.  Those fingers drop away from his face, rest on his knee to give a comforting squeeze and Liam tries to convey gratitude with his eyes but he’s not sure he can.

“They think of you as this superhero,” Harry says with a small shrug.  “I was reading about this guy, think they call him Superman?”

Liam snorts at that, head shaking because, honestly, whoever this Harry fucking Styles was, Liam is sort of in love with him now.

“Go on,” Liam whispers, eyes fleeing from Harry’s face and those dimples.

“Even he has a weakness, Liam.  He’s breakable.  He’s more than the cape and tights.  He’s a person,” Harry explains lowly, pushing that lollipop back between his lips.  “And Lois Lane?  Yeah, she gets that.  She thinks of him as a person.”

_Zayn is_ not _Lois Lane_ , Liam thinks but he gets it.  He gets everything Harry’s trying to explain – _I’m a man, not a hero. Just a boy_ – without Harry having to go on further.

“You’re not as bad as Louis says you are,” Liam mutters with a sideways grin.

Harry frowns at him, eyebrow lifting.  “What does he say?”

Liam snorts, head shaking.  “That’s my best mate, Harry.  There’s some unspoken code about keeping secrets.”

“The same best mate that let your crush defile you in front of all of us without saying a word?” Harry questions, a grin in his tone.

Blush piques high and wide over Liam’s cheeks, eyes clenching shut.  “Fuck, yeah, that wanker.”

“Uh huh,” Harry smiles out, patting Liam’s knee.  “You should be a little more selective about those mates, yeah?”

Liam laughs lowly, nodding.  He lets the silence settle in between them, grinning when Harry leans in some to slide his arm around Liam’s wide shoulders.  Their heads tip back, Liam tracing the purple blanketing the sky in search of the stars.  He thinks it feels a lot less numbing then finding a constellation in a pair of brown eyes.

**

“Where is he?” Louis asks with a hiss, leaning so far into the counter that Zayn and Liam have to back away from where they’re standing, flipping through _the Blackest Night_ and maybe Liam’s a little grateful Louis is looking so frantic.

It’s not that he wasn’t enjoying the way he and Zayn were whispering to each other, arguing over Kyle Rayner and Hal Jordan for the millionth time – “Look at him, babe.  How can he be the greatest Lantern if he’s _always_ distracted by that damn Star Sapphire.  Even Guy Gardner is a better Green Lantern.” – but Liam sort of hates the way his skin goes tingly and warm each time their fingers bump while trying to turn the page, the way Zayn draws the Green Lantern symbol repeatedly over the back of Liam’s hand while repeating that damn oath over and over in Liam’s ear.  And maybe Liam doesn’t want to tell Zayn he wants Zayn to whisper that to him the next time they’re lying in Liam’s bed together, looking up at the ceiling.

“He _who_?” Zayn asks first, blinking at Louis.

Louis’ upper lip curls, his eyes narrowing at Zayn before his head is snapping in Liam’s direction.

“I don’t know,” Liam says quickly, not even sure who Louis’ talking about but that look is enough to shock Liam into holding his hands up innocently.

“Got his gift?” Niall asks from the corner of the counter, head peeking up from his copy of some Justice League novel and Liam regards him with a grin.  Niall really wasn’t that bad.

“The little shit,” Louis growls, eyes turning smaller when he looks back at Liam.  “I’m going to _kill_ him.”

“I won’t help you with the body,” Zayn tells him, a finger held up to draw Louis’ attention.  “I don’t like getting dirt on my knees.”

“I heard you like to do a lot of fascinating things on your – “

“What did he do?” Liam asks abruptly, his voice a little choked and he doesn’t want to imagine where Louis’ words were going.  Well, actually, he sort of does but his cock is already twitching at the thought of the things Zayn probably could do on his knees.

“Coffee,” Niall says before Louis can, a smile dragging over his lips.

Louis lips are pressed together into a thin line, eyebrows wrinkled.  Niall shrugs at him, eyes glancing back downward.

“He got Louis coffee.  He got it _right_ , actually.  Heavy cream and all.  Left it on that stack of books Louis was going to put up this morning with a little note attached.  Didn’t get a chance to read the note,” Niall tells them, eyes still cast downward.

“You little Irish bastard, you knew about this,” Louis hisses, thumping his fist on the counter and Liam’s certain that that hurt Louis more than it did anything else.

Niall’s shoulders lift again, tongue licking over his lips like he’s gotten lost in the artwork.  “I may have seen the chap earlier today.  Don’t know where he is now.”

“Little blonde fucker,” Louis grumbles lowly, his face still pinched.

“Is this supposed to be a bad thing?” Zayn asks Liam instead of Louis, his voice hushed and Liam’s snickering before shrugging.

“Guess Lou doesn’t do well with sweet affirmations of love,” Liam says, knocking his shoulder against Zayn’s until Zayn’s grinning back at him, pulling at Liam’s shirt.

“Nice,” Zayn says, waggling his eyebrows as he drags his eyes over Liam’s _Flash_ shirt.  “Can I borrow it sometime?”

Curling blush settles into Liam’s cheek as he rubs at the back of his head, shoving Zayn playfully.

“Back to more important things you daft twits,” Louis sighs loudly, hands thrown up.  “Where is the curly-haired chap?”

“Try the door,” Niall says with a grin, head nodding in that direction and Liam peeks over Zayn to where Harry’s waving from behind the glass, perked smile on his lips and Josh, from the pizzeria, is behind him, shuffling from foot to foot with a smaller smile.

Niall scoots off the counter, a far too happy bounce to his walk and Liam eyes him curiously.  There’s something in his expression, brow set, curve to his mouth like he’s planning something.  Like he _knows_ what to do when he steps behind the counter, pressing a button on the stereo before turning the volume dial all the way to the right.  And the door is pinging open, the warm summer air rushing in and Liam swears Louis’ going to deck Harry as soon as he gets close enough but that doesn’t happen when the music filters in, when Harry offers Louis that sweet, bashful smile that flares his dimples just right.

Louis just stands there, mouth hanging open as Harry strokes his long fingers over Louis’ chin, lifting his brow while Louis backs into the counter, helpless.  Niall’s grinning wide like a maniac, Josh smirking at Niall, and then Harry’s sliding around Louis, a hand smoothing over Louis’ shoulder like he has an agenda.

Harry pushes up close to Louis, flattening his hands on either side of Louis on the counter and his voice is low, gravely – _When there’s nowhere else to run, is there room for one more son? If you can, hold on. If you can, hold on._   Those green eyes are set on Louis’ wide blue ones, Josh softly drumming on a stack of books near the till, Niall hopping on the counter, sitting on his knees with a smirk.  He looks like a cat, crawling a little closer but not too close.

Harry’s foot is tapping in time with the music, tongue sliding over his lips like it glides over a lollipop.  His shoulders shimmy a little and Zayn’s eyes go wide, Liam snickering behind his knuckles before he bites at them, eyes as large as Louis’ when Harry dips in closer, words whispered this time – _Another head aches, another heart breaks. I’m so much older than I can take_.  Those long fingers drum in time with the melody, Niall sitting back on his haunches and drumming his hands over his chest while Josh nods his head along to the sound of Brandon Flowers.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, but his words are sliced between pants, everything choked.

Harry shakes his head, teeth biting at his lower lip and those curls bounce with every bob of his head.  The guitar is riffing through the air, a few customers stopping to look on and Niall’s grinning even bigger, playing air guitar.  Josh spits out a laugh, hands finding a new set of books to drum on, fingers smacking against a stack of comic books and Zayn reaches out, grabs Liam’s hands before he can snatch away the comics.  Zayn’s laughing into his ear, pulling Liam backwards with him, holding Liam from behind while Harry continues.

“You’re mental,” Louis spits at him but there’s a laugh curling around his words this time.

Harry lifts his brow, emerald eyes twinkling.  He leans in closer, nose twitching with excitement, lips parting to slide his tongue over them again – _Yeah, you know you gotta help me out. Well don’t you put me on the back burner._   Liam feels Zayn’s arms circle his midsection, head nodding along and Liam leans into that touch, sliding a hand over one of Zayn’s.  That warm, tingling, uncontrollably sticking sensation rolls over him again and he’s decided to let it linger for just a little while.

“I want you,” Harry finally says amidst Josh’s drumming, Niall’s head banging into the air, fingers strumming at an invisible guitar – _I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier._   He smiles quietly, pink coloring Louis’ cheeks.  “I want you to be mine, you little fucker.  I don’t like these stupid games and I don’t care if you _think_ you hate me.  You don’t.  And I want you to be mine.”

Louis blinks at him, mouth gaped.  Liam chews on his bottom lip, tries to contain his smile but it’s hard when Zayn’s grinning against his cheek.

“We haven’t even gone out on a date and you – “

Harry presses two fingers to those lips, muffling the rest of Louis’ words.

“You don’t follow tradition,” Harry tells him point blank, a stilled seriousness to his expression.  “You don’t play by the rules, Lou.  Dates are for people who don’t know what they want.  I know.”

Liam’s waiting for Louis to argue otherwise, maybe even slap Harry.  He’s waiting on the explosion, the way it’s going to take them hours to clean up all the books Louis will no doubt hurl at Harry, reminding him, very loudly, that Harry doesn’t know shit about Louis.

It doesn’t happen.

“I want you,” Harry repeats, lips tipping into a mischievous grin.  “And I think you want me too.”

“You’re wrong,” Louis says, defiance in his tone.

“Am I?”

Louis quirks an eyebrow with Harry but there’s a lopsided grin pushing at his cheeks.

“Yes,” Louis confirms, exhaling an even breath when Harry pulls back some, a frown beginning to settle against his mouth.  “Don’t _think_ it.  _Know_ it.”

Something insanely bright passes over Harry’s face, the sun tipping rays of streaking light over his features and Liam wheezes out a gasp when Harry inclines, Louis’ hand digging into the fabric of that stupid vintage Ramones shirt Harry’s wearing, lips staying just close enough that they taste each other’s breath but not forward enough.

“You do know this is terribly cheesy, yeah?” Louis asks against Harry’s lips, his eyebrow still arched high.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out, grazing his lips just past Louis.  “But I figured you were too daft to know the difference.”

“You hipster douche with stupid dimples and amazing green eyes and – “

Harry smothers Louis words with his lips, grinning into a kiss that Louis melts into, a hand instinctively reaching up and tangling into those curls.  And Niall’s howling, Josh grinning up at Niall while still drumming on the counter – _Last call for sin_ – until Niall’s hopping off the counter, dragging Josh into a swelling hug that they both cling to for a beat too long.

Liam wants to say something, his brow lifting curiously but Zayn’s arms tighten around him, small muscles flexing, and Liam glances down to where his hand still rests on top of Zayn’s, fingers etching over the outline of a bird on the back of Zayn’s hand.  It’s a weird sensation, the way the tan glides over the silken gold complexion of Zayn’s skin.  He’s seen it enough times before but it just keeps amazing him how beautiful it looks.  He watches the way Zayn’s skin shifts those tattoos on his forearm around, the way his long fingers scratch at that Flash emblem on Liam’s chest.  There’s scruff itching along his cheek, not that he’ll complain about it, a wiry frame pressed to his back and he can’t seem to sort out when all of this started to feel right, kind of perfect.

**

The shop is dark, save for a few of the overheard lights Liam’s left on, and Liam kind of loves the lull and quietness that comes when the place is closed.  It leaves room for the thinking Liam often does when he closes because usually he’s by himself, spending hours trying to piece the place back together and return all the books Zayn and Louis were supposed to put up before they left their shift – something he’s grown accustom to them _never_ doing.

But Louis and Niall are lingering around this time, Louis actually putting a few stacks of books, though there’s still at least three more larger stacks that Liam will have to take care of tomorrow, and Niall’s putting away a few comics – putting them all in the wrong spots, but Liam doesn’t have the heart to tell the guy because he’s all smiles and humming, a drop of sunshine even though it’s dark and gray outside. 

Liam’s sitting on the counter, feet kicking back and forth because he’s already counted down the till, made the deposit bag for Paul to take in the morning, made a list of sections he’ll no doubt have to fix tomorrow because Harry left in a rush that evening – Gemma’s in town and Harry never misses an opportunity to dine with his sister – and he’s not really sure where Zayn strolled off to but he assumes it no doubt has something to do with Danielle or that one guy with the sandy blonde hair, deep and round brown eyes with that stupid smile that’s kind of contagious and the poor guy sort of talks like that Simon Cowell guy from that reality show Liam can’t remember the name of.  But Zayn was interested, at least that’s what Louis tells Liam, and Liam couldn’t be bothered sulking over Zayn again.  Not that he has much control over things like that, or so he’s learned.

Louis hops onto the counter next to Liam, sighing dramatically.  “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?  I don’t do relationships.”

“And that thing with El?” Liam asks, waving his hand around.  “What was that?”

“A good time,” Louis grins back, his nose wrinkling.

Liam rolls his eyes.  Louis is, if anything, predictable.

“What was a good time?” Niall asks after he hops onto the counter, wedging Liam between the two of them.

“That piece of hot arse that works at the coffee shop,” Louis says with a smirk, Liam smacking his arm.  Break up or not, Liam still liked Eleanor.  A _lot_.  He feels satisfied when Louis rubs at his arm, wounded expression circling his face.

“You mean Eleanor?” Niall wonders, reaching behind the till to pull out a brown paper bag and Liam’s eyeing him as Niall drags out a half-eaten sandwich, munching into it immediately.  Niall, on the other hand, is too confusing for Liam to focus on.

“Yeah,” Louis sighs dreamily before ruling his expression into a serious one, pointing at Niall.  “Not that you’ll ever find out, you hear me Horan?  I know you’re kind.”

“My _kind_?” Niall asks, nearly choking on a piece of his sandwich.

Louis nods briskly, his eyes narrowed but he never explains and Liam’s sort of grateful for that.  He doesn’t think he could handle another one of Louis’ imaginative explanations.

“Whatever,” Niall replies with a shrug, chewing into more of his sandwich.  “I’ve got enough on my plate anyways.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Liam teases, a wheezing laugh breaking his lips when Niall looks at him curiously, considering Liam’s words before it slowly dawns on him, head shaking.

“Bloody wanker.”

“Fucking hell.”

“And we’re all screwed,” Liam cheers, hands thrown up with a laugh.  He tips his head back, feet still kicking back and forth and he wishes someone would stick those neat glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling so he’d have something to fix his eyes on when his thoughts become too overwhelming.

“We need a drink,” Niall mutters around pieces of his sandwich, frowning a little when he notices he’s almost done.  His tongue licks out to wipe out a spot of mustard from the corner of his mouth and Liam tries not to make a face.

“Brilliant idea,” Louis gleams, hands clapping together and Liam spots the dangerous curve to Louis’ smile, the way something wickedly dark appears in Louis’ eyes and he wants to protest at the suggestion because he’s really knackered and far from in the mood to be going to any one of the shit clubs in this town.

But Louis’ not saying anything else.  No, he’s leaning over, reaching behind the counter to pull open one of the drawers they usually keep old receipts or pens or, he doesn’t know, fucking old sketches Zayn’s done and Liam may have collected over the months – not that he’s bothered telling Louis that – and he’s sort of panicking until Louis snaps back up, raising a bottle of unopened vodka into the air.

“Sweet,” Niall grins but Liam frowns at him.

“You keep _vodka_ in here?” Liam asks, his voice strained.

Louis shrugs, unscrewing the top and the smell alone is sickening.  It’s a cheap kind, Liam knows, one that will effectively get Louis drunk quicker than the top shelf stuff and probably will get him fired if Paul ever found out.

“Emergency stash,” Louis explains, taking a quick swig from the bottle.  “There’s some real assholes that shop here.”

“And work here,” Liam sighs, shaking his head when Louis offers him the bottle.  Niall quickly reaches over him and snatches the bottle from between Louis fingers, taking a healthy swallow before he’s coughing, exhaling sharp breaths that Liam snickers at.

Louis smirks, reaching over Liam to take the bottle back from Niall.

“That shit’s awful,” Niall says through a cough, thumping his chest.

“And you’ll be having another, right?” Louis teases, grinning around the lip of the bottle before taking another small sip.

“Of course.”

“You know you have a drinking problem, yeah?” Liam asks, half-turning to Louis.

“I also seem to have an _‘I don’t give a fuck’_ problem.  Care to help me cure that as well mate?” Louis hisses, flipping Liam off with a sideways smile.

Liam rolls his eyes, his hand quickly reaching between Niall and Louis’ this time to nick the bottle and he’s tipping his head back, fuck it all, and taking a lengthy gulp of the liquid.  And Niall’s right, it tastes horrible and it’s too warm against his tongue, but Liam sort of likes the fevered burn that rinses down his chest, sweat already prickling against his skin when Louis gleams at him while Niall howls.

_Fucking tossers_ , he thinks, his vision immediately going a little blurry and he can’t tell who has the bottle now, not that he gives a shit.

They sit like that for what feels like hours, though Liam’s pretty sure it’s only twenty minutes, passing the bottle back and forth in some sort of silently agreed rotation.  Liam listens intently, well at least he tries to but he sort of loses track after the fourth sip of whatever the hell it is they’re drinking.  Louis whines about Harry, Niall’s hungry, Louis kind of loves Harry, Niall thinks they’re all ace, Louis wants to have sex with Harry and Liam chokes on his next sip, missing whatever Niall says but, yeah, he does not want to hear about the things Louis’ been imagining doing to Harry.

“My parents are shit,” Louis says after another a gulp of vodka, picking at a few strands of his hair rather than looking at them.  “They could give me all the money in the world, the nice car, the trips if I asked, but they can’t remember the last girl I brought home for them to meet.  They could care less if I met a good guy or if I decided that just maybe I don’t want to be a lawyer or something like that.  Maybe I want to be a teacher?  Maybe I want to move to London and be a coach.”

“You’d be a good one,” Niall says, cheeks flushed and he’s rocking back and forth, making Liam just a little uncomfortable.  “Strong disciplinarian.”

Louis stifles a laugh, passing the bottle to Liam.  “ _’Get good grades_ ’ and _‘the money is in your account’_ is all they ever say to me anymore.  Assholes.”

Liam takes a small sip this time, stiff burn dragging down his throat.  He winces at the way it leaves his skin hot, fingers shaking when he passes Niall the bottle while Louis lowers his head into his hands.  He eases a hand onto Louis’ shoulder, a small comforting squeeze that Louis’ lifts his head a little for, a wet sigh leaving his lips.

“I’m thinking about dropping out of Uni,” Liam says casually like its typical conversation and his head sort of spins when Louis bolts upright, Niall nearly spitting out half of the alcohol he swished into his mouth.

“You _what_?  No, you _can’t_.  What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”  It all comes out in a string of words that Liam tries to put together but his eyes focus on the flush of Louis’ cheeks, blue eyes much wider now with hands gripping at his knees before he lifts one, smacking Liam’s arm roughly.

“Ouch,” Liam says lowly, rubbing at his arm but the sting is dulled quickly by the alcohol.  “You dick.”

“Prick,” Louis shoots back with a lowered brow.  He winces when Liam punches his arm, slapping Liam’s arm again in return.

“Wanker.”

“Twit.”

“Asshole.”

“Nancy boy who has a crush on a complete _douche_ and everyone know it’s too fucking hot for _leather jackets_ in the summer and why the hell do you two – “

“And I think we have a winner!” Niall announces loudly, startling Liam with his echoing laughter, swinging the bottle around until Louis reaches up – using Liam for support because he’s too wasted and the concept of hand-eye coordination at this point is quite laughable – and snatches it back.

Louis doesn’t take another sip, eyeing that half the bottle is gone before fixing his glassy oceanic eyes on Liam, lips pushing into a small frown.

“Why?”

Liam offers him a shrug, resting his hands behind himself with his fingers splayed over the wood before leaning back, managing not to fall.  He tilts his head back, looking at that ceiling that still needed those stars, and other colorful things he imagines Zayn could paint up there, to distract him.  His feet kick a little slower now, Louis poking his shoulder to bring him back from his musings.

“Paul’s thinking about buying the coffee shop,” Liam nods immediately when Louis’ eyes go a little wide, head jerking to the door for emphasis, “from Mr. Barlow when he retires and moves to London in a few months.”

Niall nearly tips over the counter reaching for the vodka but Louis freely passes it to him, eyes still locked on Liam.

“Paul wants to bring more business in here.  He knows the place is shit, doesn’t make much money, and its run by some complete slackers who just don’t want to grow up,” Liam holds up a finger before Louis can interrupt, smile spreading over Liam’s lips, “but this place has been some sort of dream for him.  And he thinks it’s doing better now that Niall’s here to help out and Harry’s bringing in another crowd, what with all the little song sets he does here and there for the customers.”

“He’s quite spectacular,” Niall notes as if they’re completely unaware.  Liam’s a tiny bit grateful when Niall tilts his head back to take another swig of that offending alcohol.

“He’s talking about combining the bookshop and the coffee shop.  He’s thought about knocking down the wall between this place and Mr. Lee’s old place, moving the coffee shop over, expanding a few things.  He wants to set up couches and a small spot where customers can have impromptu open mic sessions which is rather brilliant if you ask me,” Liam explains, rocking a little to a song in his head – _I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shop I love so much_ – and that liquor is cooling under his veins, a thin layer of sweat slicking his forehead but he feels like everything inside of him is buzzing and alive.

“Paul says maybe he can bring Mark from the music store on.  He wants to make Mary, the current manager over at Barlow’s who’s as sweet as pie,” Liam says but Niall’s leaning in with a desperate look on his face.

“Pie?” he asks eagerly, Liam rolling his eyes with a snort when Louis leans in to flick Niall’s nose.  Niall falters, hand slipping off of Liam’s knee but he catches himself, looking up with cheeks sunburn red.  “Oh, right.  She really is.”

Liam shakes his head, breathing out a slow exhale.  “He wants to bring her on as a partner.  He thinks she has some brilliant ideas, honestly.  And he wants more baristas and I even heard him say he wants to get Phoebe involved with the music, Harry too.  He wants Zayn to paint a few things for the walls, which I know he’ll love, even give the comic book section a bigger area of the shop with posters and more displays.”

Louis draws back, nodding along but there’s a small piece missing in his eyes.  Liam tries to decipher it, chewing lightly on his bottom lip because the burn of alcohol against a raw lip was not a pleasant thought.  But then there’s something so familiar etching over Louis’ expression, wild and rampant in its nature.

“Why don’t I know about this?  I should know about this.  The Tommo should be informed,” Louis rattles off, hands thrown widely into the air.  “Wait, does _El_ know?  El should know about this.  She should not be in the dark.  I’m calling El.”

Liam sighs, pushing himself back upright and circling his fingers around Louis’ wrist before he can yank out his pocketed phone.  He shakes his head slowly, Louis’ eyes drifting from narrowed to soft.  He waits until Louis’ breathing evens out again before pulling his hand away, running it up Louis’ shoulder and into Louis’ mused brown hair.

“He can’t – “

“He wants to make me a manager,” Liam says before Louis can finish, his shoulders slumping forward but there’s a grin staying steady across his lips.

“But,” Louis starts, Liam swiftly shaking his head – which isn’t exactly the best idea considering how much alcohol he’s swallowed but it’s effective – his fingers combing Louis’ hair back and he hopes the look in his eyes stops all the questions still lodged in Louis’ throat.  It does, for now, but he’s certain Louis will crawl into his bed later, when Liam’s far too drowsy, and burden him with a dozen questions all while slapping Liam’s chest and rubbing playfully at his head.

“I think,” Niall says lowly, leaning on Liam while holding the bottle because, yeah, he’s definitely not coordinated enough to drink now, “that I’m not utterly against the idea of having a threesome with Cher and Josh.”

Liam slumps forward with shock, Niall’s hand slipping off of Liam and he tips forward just a little too far, some of the liquid from the bottle sloshing out onto the floor before Niall finds his balance, gripping the counter until his knuckles are pale.  Liam stares down at the wet spot in the carpet and wonders how he’s going to save Louis’ job in the morning when Paul gets there.

“For Christ’s sake Niall,” Louis groans, sputtering out a laugh when Niall’s eyes grow a little too big.  “Cher _and_ Josh?  Wait, hold on, _Josh from the pizzeria_?”

Niall leans back, lifting the bottle before swirling around the contents.  He sighs happily, giving Louis a chuffed expression that lingers even when Liam glares at him.  Who they hell were these people?  Louis and Harry are dating, Zayn’s, well, Zayn is still Zayn, but Niall and Josh?  Niall considering having sex with _any_ guy?

“What?  He’s fit and really nice,” Niall declares like everything falling from his lips is utterly normal.  “And he told me about this one time he went down on his best mate when they were stupidly drunk and, I don’t know, I might’ve got a stiffy.”

“You _might’ve_ gotten a stiffy?” Liam asks him with an incredulous expression morphed over his face.

“Oh, you’d know if your willy liked the idea or not,” Louis laughs out, patting Liam’s thigh because he’s too far gone to reach across and do the same to Niall.

Niall gives them a small, nonchalant shrug before finally taking a sip of the vodka, making a face afterwards.

“Fucking bullshit, Horan,” Louis says with a low whistle, resting his head on Liam’s shoulder.  “I think you take the cake tonight, Ni.”

Niall groans loudly, frustration and annoyance exhaled out.  “Can we please stop talking about grub?  I’m _starving_.”

Liam cocks an eyebrow up at him, chewing lightly on his bottom lip but he doesn’t bother.  He just exhales a snicker, feet kicking idly again.

“I’m in love with him,” Liam says coolly, his eyes looking forward to the shelves and shelves of comic books rather than Louis and Niall.  He clears his throat, Niall’s fingers running lightly up his thigh while Louis nods against his shoulder.

“ _Zayn_ , I mean.  I’m in love with Zayn Malik.  Completely, utterly, foolishly in love with him and, I-I don’t think it’s a good thing anymore,” Liam admits, his chin tucking.

“I think maybe you should tell him,” Niall says flatly.  “The being in love part, not the part about it being bad, of course.”

“Wow,” Louis says lowly like someone’s just said something shockingly brilliant, or incredibly stupid and with Louis, Liam can never tell.  “The fucking Irish kid is a genius.”

Liam snorts, Niall leaning back with a small tinge of offense on his face before it turns into unabashed pride.  Niall salutes Louis with the half-empty vodka, taking anther short swallow that has him gagging but he refuses to release the bottle when Louis reaches for it.  And Liam leans back, let’s all of the words settle into the air while Niall and Louis argue lowly, spitting out bitter words that neither really means.  Liam laughs lowly to himself because, _oh_ , it could be that easy, yeah?  Just _tell_ him.  And wait for him to not feel the same.  Liam tries not to let his face drop.  It wouldn’t matter anyway.

Zayn’s the only one who’s ever really been able to make Liam smile through a shit storm.

**

The rain has settled into the city for a week.  It’s nothing but annoyed customers, thunder rumbling, wet streets, feet squeaking with water whenever they move across the carpet, small sniffles from sick children, umbrellas shaking water onto the counter, and Louis’ even more bitter than he usually is despite the fact that whenever Harry walks in, all gleeful smiles and bright green eyes, there’s a little smirk pulling at the corners of Louis’ mouth.  Still, he gives almost every customer shit for no reason, even the children which isn’t very impressive considering he is Louis Tomlinson, but Liam knows how protective Louis is of his own younger sisters.

It’s incredibly slow on Saturday morning, nothing but a few customers dragging in from the coffee shop with red noses and jackets dripping with rain and a few of the University students who decided to stick around the city rather than travelling home for the weekend.  There’s a stilled silence blanketing the entire shop, only the soft hum of the stereo – which Niall has turned down low out of respect for the hangover Louis’ nursing – a few customers asking questions here and there but they’re mostly staying to themselves, finding a corner of the shop to settle into to read something, a trend Liam blames Zayn for, not that he discourages Zayn from doing it himself.

They’re all in the front, crowded around the counter in some form.  Harry’s leaning on the portion closest to the door, head bopping to whatever’s playing quietly over the radio while fingering through a few pages of some Spider-Man comic.  Niall’s sitting on a stack of books on the floor by the comics, a copy of an anatomy book raised high and Liam wonders if he’s looking at it for the pictures or if he’s actually reading it, being that he can’t see those bright blue eyes with the way he’s holding the thick book.  Louis’ sighing every few seconds from his spot on the counter, his eyes on his hands and he can’t seem to sit still, becoming impatient every time the door pings and a gush of the rain spills through it.  Zayn’s huddled into a chair in a corner behind the counter, his head bowed with those black-rimmed glasses on, dragging his hand through his hair every few minutes while reading something that Liam can’t make out.

Liam?  He’s a few feet away from Zayn, trying not to breathe in that pungent scent from the cigarette Zayn had just smoked, or the kiwi body wash, or the cologne he’s wearing that sort of lingered on Liam’s skin for hours after that night of the party.  He’s trying to read this damn _Teen Titans_ comic for the _tenth_ time today but he keeps getting distracted by the way Zayn’s jaw tenses while he reads, the muscles in his mouth pushing at his cheeks.  He’s not following those long fingers as they turn the page and looking at the way Zayn’s tongue keeps darting out to lick his lips, leaving them shiny and, yeah, Liam can admit he _is_ thinking about how soft and wonderful those lips felt when Zayn kissed him.  Every time Zayn has kissed him, which is adding up to be a bit more than what normal friends do.  That is, if normal best mates kissed as frequently as Liam and Zayn did.

And, _fuck_ , he’s trying not to enjoy that cup of tea Zayn brought him so much.  He kind of wants to hate the way it burned his tongue or how he can still taste that squeeze of lemon, hint of cinnamon, the healthy amount of honey that didn’t make it too sweet – like Louis’ _always_ was – or too offending – the way Niall seemed to like his – and then there’s the aroma that billows out with the steam every time Liam opens the lid.  It’s… _intoxicating_.  It reminds him of how Zayn smells after a shower with its natural scent, just the right hint of something different, and, Jesus, this is not how Liam needs to spend his day.

He pushes the tea aside, catches the way Zayn looks up for a moment at him curiously before he’s shrugging, eyes buried back in that book, and Liam waits at least five seconds before he pulls the cup closer to him again.  The corners of his mouth give him away when Harry glances at him and something pink and rosy settles across his cheeks.  He might not want to like it, but he does.

“Hold on,” Harry exclaims loudly, Louis tensing up immediately while Niall peeks his head up from a bag of lollipops – _damn you Harry Styles_ – with inquiring blue eyes.

“Noise,” Louis sighs, head lowered again with his eyes closed while his index fingers rub gingerly at his temples.

“Sorry,” Harry mutters before turning toward Liam.  “Do you mean to tell me Gwen Stacey _dies_?  Like, _dead_.  As in the Green Goblin _killed_ her, unlike in _Spider-Man 3_ where, I don’t know, she _lived_.”

“Never trust the film version,” Zayn says lowly before Liam can reply, eyes still buried in his book.

Harry seems to ignore him before blurting out, “And Mary Jane is _not_ Peter Parker’s first love?”

Zayn sighs, repeating, “Never trust the film version,” before lifting his book up – _Stardust_ – while shaking his head.  “It’ll let you down every time.”

Liam bites on his thumbnail, blinking at Zayn rather than Harry.  The smile itching at his lips spreads as Zayn pushes his glasses back from where they rested on the edge of his nose, eyes lowering once more to finish reading.  He can remember begging Zayn for weeks to watch _Stardust_ , Zayn waving him off before dragging Liam down to the couch one night, forcing Liam to rest his back to Zayn’s chest while Zayn secured an arm around Liam’s stomach and there they laid, for hours, Zayn reading _Stardust_ to Liam, inflecting the various characters’ voices far better than what he imagined the film would, with Liam listening intently.  They didn’t make it past the fifth chapter before Liam had passed out on Zayn’s shoulder but every piece of him has been wondering how the story ends.

Every piece of him has wanted to cuddle up to Zayn, in his own bed, and find out whether Tristran finds his true love with Victoria or Yvaine.

For a brief moment, he thinks he could do it.  He could throw all of those gripping fears out the door, march right over to that chair and kiss Zayn.  He could tell him everything, the years of loving someone not knowing if they loved you back.  He could tell Zayn that each of those kisses meant something, not to just Liam, but to both of them.  He could let Zayn know he’s not okay with him seeing other people, letting them touch Zayn, letting them breathe the same air Zayn does because none of them were worthy.

He catches himself, breath uneven because, no, what gave him the _right_?  What made him believe that _he_ was worthy of Zayn?

“Fucking bullshit,” Harry mumbles, face scrunching up.

“Congratulations, love, you just solved one of the world’s greatest mysteries,” Louis sighs out, dragging his fingers through his wild hair, sticking on all ends and Liam’s been doing his best not to laugh at him all morning.  “Now can you please shut the fuck up?”

“I don’t like your hair like that,” Harry notes, tapping his finger against his lip.

Liam knows if Louis was close enough, he’d punch Harry but he sticks his tongue out instead.

“Fuck me already,” Louis says flatly.  He pauses, a thoughtful look masking his face before he holds up a finger, Harry’s eyebrows already wagging at him.  “Wait, _don’t_.  We’re not on that level in our relationship just yet and I’d hate for you to think I was easy.”

“But what about what we did the other night with the – “

“ _Harold_ ,” Louis hisses, pinched expression saying all that his mouth can’t.

“Harry,” Harry reminds him, smiling at the streaks of blush painting Louis’ cheeks.

“Whatever,” Louis grumbles, turning away from Harry but Liam spots the way Louis keeps looking over his shoulder at the younger boy, curious eyes tracing over those dimples and that smile.

Harry turns his attention to Zayn, grinning.  “There are great films made from books.  Or just great films, period.”

Zayn peeks up, his eyebrow arching.  “Name one.”

“ _The Notebook_ ,” Harry blurts out, determined look on his face.

Zayn rolls his eyes immediately, clicking his tongue against his teeth.  “No.  Not even.”

“ _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ ,” Louis offers with a mild shrug.

“The fact that you’re too daft to know the book is called _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ rules out anything else you have to say, you twit,” Zayn says with a scoff, head shaking when Louis flips him off.

Niall grins meekly, finger raised in the air.  “ _Harry Potter and the_ – “

“Don’t you even dare,” Zayn cuts in, his voice stern and Niall’s shrinking with a minute frown, eyes briskly finding their way back to his book.

Liam chews his thumbnail for a second, eyeing Zayn with the corners of his mouth pulling upward.

“What about _a Christmas Story_?” Liam suggests, his smile full bloom when Zayn looks up, a knowing grin passing over his lips.  He catches the way the corners of Zayn’s lips quirk like he’s about to say something, Liam quickly adding, “Based on that novel _In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash_.”

Zayn looks taken aback for a brief moment, hazel eyes wide before his tongue swipes over his lips.  He’s nodding at Liam, impressed.  Liam grins at him smugly, chewing on his bottom lip before Zayn’s shaking his head, lowering his eyes back to his book but not before Liam sees that sweeping blush touching his cheeks.

“Nice try, babe,” Zayn says softly, the smile on his lips still unmoving.

“ _The Breakfast Club_ ,” Harry utters, thumping on the counter with pride dipping into his smirk.

Zayn blinks at him, lips curling before making a face.  “Not a book.”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a dreamy smile crossing his lips, a faraway look in his eyes.  “It’s too good to be one.”

Liam chuckles behind his hand because, _really?_   That doesn’t even make sense, but to Harry, it did.

Harry clears his throat, standing tall with wild forest green eyes, a hand over his chest like some dignified gentleman.

“Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong,” Harry starts, a groan passing past Louis’ lips, Niall’s head lifting with a grin while Zayn eyes him suspiciously.  “What we did _was_ wrong.  But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are.  You see us as you want to see us...

“In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.  But what we found out is that each one of us is,” Harry turns to Niall with a smirk, “a brain…”

Green eyes fall on Liam, that smirk lifting.  “And an athlete.”

Harry’s shucking a hand through those thick curls, winking at Zayn.  “And a basketcase.”

Louis flips Harry off as soon as he glances his way but there’s a tickling smile passing over those lips when Harry does a small curtsey, fingers grabbing at an invisible tutu.  “A princess.”

Harry thumps his own chest, sticking it out far until Niall’s falling off his stack of books laughing, Liam grinning while nibbling on his bottom lip.

“And a criminal,” Harry finally says, a large sweeping gesture with his hand, Zayn’s nose wrinkling with a snicker while Louis rolls his eyes, mocking Harry with a clap.  “Does that answer your question?  Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.”

Louis turns to Niall, pointing at him with a warning cascading through sapphire eyes.  “I swear to God if you start singing ‘Don’t You Forget About Me,’ I will castrate you and I will make you like it.  So help me Horan, I will.”

There’s a towering laughter from Harry and Zayn, feathered blush stretching across Niall’s pale cheeks and Liam’s sighing softly, leaning on his elbows while watching them.  Slackers, misfits, just a bunch of clueless kids without any idea of what to do with themselves… he couldn’t imagine not having any of them around.  Not for a second.

**

Zayn doesn’t come into the shop on Sunday.  Liam doesn’t notice until around one when it’s too late, even for Zayn, Louis complaining about needing some coffee, and he’s barking, _“Where’s Zayn?  Where the fuck is that quiff?  Harry, I need you to find that little twit with my coffee.  And poor Liam, he_ needs _me to have my coffee.”_   They all sort of ignore Louis – even though he follows Liam around for hours like a puppy, avoiding Harry because he really wants Harry’s attention but he’s not begging for it – and Liam decides to send Zayn a text around three, waits until five before he’s ringing him up.  He gets the voicemail and before he can fix his lips together to say something, the automated voice tells him that Zayn’s mailbox is full.  He spends the next hour on edge, something that Harry picks up on, Niall too, until Louis’ dragging Liam down to the coffee shop by the collar of his shirt and they share hot cocoa together while the rain thumps on the streets outside.

He gets a text Monday morning – _I’m sick. Tel the world to go the fuck a way :( xx Z_ – that does little too soothe him but it’s enough to help him finish getting ready for work, tugging Louis out of the bed despite all of his protesting so he can drive Liam.  The rain has let up aomw, though the sky is still a silvery gray hue, and the customers are a little less cranky, not that Louis makes life any easier for them.  And Harry arrives with a smile on his lips and a lollipop in his mouth.  He brings coffee for Louis, a bagel and tea for Liam, and _three_ sandwiches for Niall, something Louis groans at but Niall’s a train wreck of smiles and he practically skips around the store every time a customer asks for his assistance.

Liam watches the door for hours, waiting on Zayn to come stumbling through with his hair a mess, bright brown eyes, that sideways smirk that Liam’s stopped hating years ago, and that stinging scent of cigarettes following him everywhere.  He doesn’t come and all of the comics Louis piled up in front of him, pushing them at Liam as some sort of peace offering do nothing for him.  He spends the rest of the day staring at the shelves of comics, Niall rearranging them as much as he can for all the new releases the next day but Liam just glares at each of them.  He can’t do anything else.

Liam wonders how many times he’s stood on these steps, the ones leading to that perfectly painted red door with the neatly trimmed hedges outlining the walkway that was made out of all those smooth pebbles that made it all look incredibly fancy and disgustingly posh.  He could probably count five times, actually, because Liam never really stood outside of that red door for long.  He usually leapt up the small steps, sometimes using the back door on the other end of the house because the steps through the kitchen got to Zayn’s room quicker than the ones in the foyer.

Zayn’s family didn’t live too far from where Liam and Louis grew up, except his neighborhood was just on the side of expensive with those families who were sickeningly rich while Liam grew up a few streets down where all the middle class families lived.  While Louis’ parents flaunted their money but chose to live reasonably, Zayn’s father never hid the fact that all of his hard work led to a lifestyle he deserved.  Liam wonders sometimes if that’s the reason Zayn’s parents divorced when he was sixteen, not that he ever asked Zayn.  He knew how painful that was for Zayn, especially for his younger sisters and going there was a little too heartbreaking for Liam, trying to catch all of those tears that Zayn stubbornly held onto like it made him less of a person for exposing his own feelings for once.

He thinks sometimes the reason Zayn never moved out of this house was to be there for Safaa and Waliyha, his mum too.  Maybe it’s because Zayn’s incredibly lazy until he puts his mind to something, which was as often as Zayn skipping a cigarette break at the shop, and then he’s magic in motion.  When Zayn’s father left, he left Zayn’s mum almost everything – the two nice cars, the holiday flat back in Bradford they vacationed at almost every October for their anniversary, a nice lump of pounds in their bank account, and the house.  Zayn’s mum wanted nothing but the house.  It was the house her children remembered most, the one she put all of her effort into to make it feel like a home instead of a museum exhibit like Louis’ house surely was.

When he knocks on the door, he can’t fight the smile that curves over his lips when Zayn’s mum greets him, drawing him into a deep hug before looking him over, going on about how much he’s grown while running careful hands over his cheeks.  He wonders if she can feel the blush underneath her fingertips, biting on his lower lip as she compliments his haircut, nudging his shoulder when he says how youthful she still looks.

“Come with me,” she insists, head jerking toward the kitchen.  “I was making lunch for the girls and some coffee for that cranky son of mine.  I swear, I’ll never understand how you and Louis ever put up with him for all of these years.”

“He’s not that bad?” Liam offers with a small shrug, following her toward the kitchen.

She gives him a knowing look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed with a playful smile.

“Okay, he can be a pain in our bums,” Liam admits with a small chuckle.  “But we love him.”

“And he loves you two,” she sighs out with an even wider smile.  “You might as well get his coffee together while I finish this soup.  You remember where the mugs are, yeah?”

“Yes, Mrs. Mal—“

“ _Tricia_ ,” she insists, lifting a wooden spoon from the counter before dipping it into a large pot, stirring slowly.  “You’re far too old to still call me that.  And I don’t know if anyone’s called me Mrs. Malik since Yasser left, well, besides complete strangers.”

Liam nods quickly, biting at a corner of his lip.  Her tight grin eases him, pulling open the cupboard before snatching out a mug and moving toward the pot.  He slowly pours the steaming coffee inside, sighing down at the dark contents.

“I still don’t understand how he could drink that stuff black,” Tricia says, using the back of her hand to wipe away the sweat the steam from the soup creates from her forehead.  “Just like Yasser.  Not even a hint of cream or sugar.”

Liam snorts at that, remembers the time Louis slipped cream into Zayn’s cup.  Zayn was furious when he spat out the coffee all over the counter and Liam wonders if Louis still has a scar from where Zayn chucked a fucking _dictionary_ at his head.  Liam had to spend his next week’s pay replacing those rare issues of _Captain America_ before Paul found out.

“But he’s a wonderful person, isn’t he?” Tricia wonders, her eyebrow lifting a little when she looks up at Liam through her lashes.

He swallows slowly, nodding while leaning against the counter.  There’s a tickling smirk pushing at the corner of her lips, fingers sweeping that scarlet-tinted hair behind her ears.

“He’s ace,” Liam mutters, teeth still chewing at his lip.

Tricia nods slowly, eyes returning to the steaming pot.

Liam exhales lowly, head ducking.  He rubs at the back of his neck, taking in the kitchen.  He stares at that small white table he spent a few mornings at, munching on a plate of eggs and bacon while Zayn sat silently in front of him, head ducking while he ate cereal, kicking at Liam’s foot when he stared too long at Zayn.  Zayn never gave Liam shit about it, tapping his bare foot on Liam’s until the blush beating across Liam’s cheeks and stinging the tops of his ears subsided.

“You know, I always wanted someone for my son that loved him,” Tricia says, a flicker to her eyes, easing by Liam to pull down a few bowls from the cupboard.  “Someone who honestly loved him.  Someone who give him the type of love he doesn’t want to let go of.  Someone who will make him feel the way Yasser made me feel in the beginning.”

Liam stays close to the counter, watching as she dips the spoon back into the steaming soup, taking a small taste before smiling, nodding happily.  She clears her throat, eyes drawn to Liam again and he’s trying to stay still, not fidget with his stupid vintage Batman shirt, skidding the toe of his trainers on that nicely tiled floor, and he feels like an adolescent under her gaze.

Tricia sighs out a giggle, scooping up soup into each of the bowls.  “The lovely girl Perrie didn’t love him like that.”

Liam nods slowly, remembers how much he really did enjoy Perrie but the connection wasn’t genuine.  He could see that without trying.

“That sweet girl Danielle that he talks about sometimes,” Liam tries not to wince when she continues, a sweeping motion with her spoon as if to say something else, “doesn’t love him like that.  I think he knows that very well.”

Liam swallows the lump pushing at his passageway, rubbing his shoulder while his eyes flicker away from her grin.

“That one boy that Zayn tried to hide from me… what was his name?”

“Andy,” Liam mumbles before he realizes it’s slipping past his lips, his cheeks a fevered pink when he looks up to find Tricia nodding with a sideways smirk like the one Zayn wears so artfully.

“He didn’t love Zayn like that either,” Tricia adds, sliding a spoon into each of the bowls.  She reaches just past Liam, grabs the salt and pepper before sprinkling a light dusting of each over the steaming soup.

Liam bites a little too hard at his lip when she finally spins to face him, arms folding over her chest with a curled smile.  He stiffens a little, dragging the sweat from his palms along his black sweats, his chin tucking.

“I’ve always been fond of you Liam.  You’re such a good boy, so responsible.  Even when I know Zayn was the reason for some of the awful things you two did, you took the blame.  I couldn’t help but love you,” Tricia says, her eyes a still portrait of seriousness but her lips are quirked up with that smile.  She lifts that still hot cup of coffee, handing it to him with a wink.  “What mother wouldn’t love someone who loves her son that much?”

She turns from Liam before the blush completely ravages his cheeks and whatever piece of his body that hasn’t colored already.  His hand is shaking, nearly tipping over the coffee and she’s humming quietly, lifting the bowls from the counter before moving into the dining area.  And Liam’s still against the counter for minutes, his heart a faint murmur in his chest now but his thoughts are a parade of noises and fireworks.

**

Zayn’s room is just as he remembers – dark hardwood floor even though the other rooms were carpeted, a large dresser near the mirrored walk-in closet, sketches taped to the navy blue walls with the pale cream accents on the borders, spacious computer desk with nothing but a simple stereo and laptop on it, a scattering of clothes and trainers that were all neatly placed and organized according to Zayn’s liking, a stack of books on the small bedside dresser, and a television mounted on the wall.  Liam chews on his lower lip, fingers dragging over the small collection of comic books at the edge of the computer desk, grinning slightly when he spots the array of DVD’s piled in two stacks on the floor at the foot of the bed.  He walks lightly, eyes flickering over the sketch Zayn did of Thor, the one of the Bat signal, the still unfinished one of the Joker that Liam sort of loves the way it is with its lines done in pencils and ink, the only smudge of coloring over those maniacal lips with the teeth bare.

He sets the cup of coffee on the bedside table, grinning down at Zayn who’s asleep on his back, dark colored duvet pulled up high on his body and nearly covering half of his face.  The scruff is a little thicker but there’s still a youthful innocence drawn across that sculpted face.  The pillows are stacked entirely too high, the way Zayn likes them, and Liam tries not to snicker when he catches the foot of that silly stuffed Buzz Lightyear Liam gave him one August when the carnival was in town sticking out from beneath the duvet.  He bites at his tongue, fingers tracing over the wrinkled sheets, that stiff scent of clinging cologne hovering just above that layer of kiwi.

“Either get me some nosh,” Zayn mumbles, his voice cracked and hoarse from sleep and sickness, “or go away.”

Liam grins, teeth still nipping at his bottom lip.

Zayn stretches beneath the duvet, eyes blinking repeatedly before he tries to focus them on Liam.  He drags his fingers through that mused hair that still manages to look styled even though Liam’s certain Zayn hasn’t touched it with a comb in days.

“Are you hungry?  Your mum just finished lunch and I could – “

Zayn shakes his head quickly, eyes still a bit narrowed but Liam can see the maple color in them.  He watches Zayn turn toward the steaming cup, a small smile sliding against those chewed pink lips.  He’s forcing himself to sit up, and Liam can see the struggle there, before reaching out for the cup, taking a slow sip that lifts that smile higher.

“You should be at the shop,” Zayn tells him when he lowers the cup, brow lowering with tapered eyes.

Liam nods, his hand instinctively rubbing at the nape of his neck.

“You should be resting,” Liam counters, a trickling smile comforting him.

“I was,” Zayn says, head tipping back.  “You interrupted me.”

“Oh.  Right.”

Zayn’s smirk doesn’t help the way his cheeks burn.  He drags his hand over his clipped hair, shifting his weight from foot to foot.  Zayn shakes his head before patting to the bed.

“Come on,” Zayn says with a small sigh.  “Doesn’t feel right with you all the way over there.”

Liam nips at his lip, fingers aching.  Zayn’s right.  He can’t remember a time where either of them stood in the other’s bedroom unless they were too busy yelling at each other about something stupid, but even then, they always ended up in each other’s bed, laughing it all off.  It was just natural, Liam letting Zayn curl up to him or Liam resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder while their conversations bordered on hysterical and, from any other person’s view, boring.

Liam shifts a little uncomfortably for a moment, Zayn lifting an eyebrow.

“I’m sick Liam,” Zayn tells him, fixing his lips into a frown.  “Would you deny a sick man his request?”

Liam snorts, toeing off his trainers before slipping them next to the stacks of DVD’s on the floor.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I could have pneumonia.  Or the flu,” Zayn says, sniffling dramatically while wiping at his eyes.  “Or even worse.  I could have the plague.”

“You’re mad, you know that?” Liam laughs out, trying not to slip over the hardwood as he moves toward the head of the bed.

Zayn scoots over a little, making room for Liam with a sticky-sweet grin pushing up his sharp cheeks.  Liam draws the duvet back and, _oh_ , it would seem Zayn hasn’t bothered to get out of bed to put on normal clothes.  No, he’s only in a pair of pajama bottoms, a pair of Superman ones that Liam’s fairly certain Zayn nicked from him because they’re too big and baggy, and even with the drawstring tied tightly at the waist, they still hang low off of his hips.  The rest is flashes of gold skin with scattered ink across it, lean frame that’s still compacted with defined muscle and sharp ridges.  And Liam catches his breath before it stutters, eyes trailing over that thin strip of hair that started just beneath Zayn’s navel and stretched lower into… No, he’s _not_ doing this.  He shakes his head, wills away those thoughts before his cock strains against his briefs and sinks down into the bed, letting Zayn pull back the duvet just over their waists.

Liam knows its instinct when he slides his arm around Zayn’s bare shoulders.  His skin is hot but paler than normal, Liam chewing on his lip as Zayn eases in closer.  They sink down on the mattress together, Zayn cuddling closer, another natural move, with his head on Liam’s shoulder and his arm thrown over Liam’s stomach.  Liam shifts his fingers into Zayn’s hair, grinning softly when Zayn breathes out a soft moan.

He wants to tell himself it doesn’t feel incredible, being this close again, but he doesn’t have the mental capacity to lie to himself right now when Zayn curls a leg around his and rests a hand on Liam’s slow rising chest – _I like where we are when we drive in your car. I like where we are… here_.

“You left Louis in charge of the shop?  Aren’t you afraid he’ll catch it on fire?” Zayn asks lowly, his voice still dragging from sleep and gravely from sickness.

Liam wants to tell him how silly that sounds since there was absolutely nothing in that shop that would actually catch it on fire, except maybe the electrical equipment.  He wants to tell Zayn he wouldn’t even know if the place was actually caught in a blaze because he’d too busy wondering about Zayn, thinking about him until the only thing Liam’s managed to picture is _ZaynZaynZayn_ for hours on end.  It sounds terrible in his head, so he bites at his lip instead, combing fingers through Zayn’s soft hair – _‘cause our lips can touch. And our cheeks can brush. Our lips can touch here._

“I left Harry with him,” Liam admits, turning a little to pull Zayn closer.  Zayn doesn’t resist him, fingers tapping along Liam’s chest.  “He seems responsible.”

Zayn snorts lowly, nodding against Liam’s shoulder.  “He’s massively in love with Lou.”

“Yeah,” Liam breathes out.  _Like I’m massively in love with you,_ he thinks, shivers at the thought because, no, that wasn’t helping.

Neither was Zayn nuzzling his nose to Liam’s neck, humming against the skin with a smile.  “You smell like Liam.  I like that.”

Liam shakes with a giggle, his other hand reaching over Zayn, rubbing at his bare shoulder – _Well you are the one, the one that lies close to me._

“We still haven’t seen the Iron Man film yet,” Liam says, unsure of where the thought comes from but it allows his mind not to think about the way Zayn’s skin would feel incredible if he just removed his shirt.

“No,” Zayn says a little brokenly, drawing lazy symbols over Liam’s chest with his index finger.  “I’m sure Niall is terribly upset about that.”

Liam bites at a frown, nodding.  “Certainly.”

“He’ll probably be upset when we see it without him too, yeah?” Zayn says with a smirk that Liam feels along his shoulder.  “I mean, it really is sort of a _you_ and _I_ thing, anyways.  I’m sure he won’t be crushed.”

Liam tries not to let the aching smile that’s pushing at his cheeks and scrunching his eyes overtake his entire face.  His fingers betray him, massaging into Zayn’s shoulder, dipping lower to trace over his bicep, sliding to the inside to find that puzzle piece tattoo he knows is hiding somewhere on Zayn’s skin.

“I wanted to come by the shop but my mum wouldn’t let me get out of bed,” Zayn admits, his words sticking to that space between Liam’s neck and shoulder.  “But I hated staying in here without you around.  I don’t know.  It was weird.  Like it is every year when you go away.”

Liam nods; he knows the feeling too well.  He’s never been able to describe it, not out loud.  It’s just… _unnerving_ in one of those sickeningly alarming ways that you just can’t get rid of.

“I guess I just miss you loads sometimes,” Zayn adds, his brow furrowed and Liam peeks down to see the frown pulling at the corners of Zayn’s mouth.  “I bet that’s how everyone feels about their best mate though.”

Liam nods stiffly.  Probably.  But he doesn’t think he feels the same way when Louis’ not around – _Whispers, ‘Hello, I’ve missed you quite terribly.’_   No, he doesn’t feel that way about Louis at all.

Liam reaches just behind Zayn, grabs the remote and clicks on the telly, smirking when _Batman Begins_ starts up.  Zayn snickers into his chest and Liam can’t remember when Zayn slipped that low, but he keeps his arm tight around Zayn.  He shifts a little, turning slightly and their legs tangle together, instinctively of course.  He presses a kiss to Zayn’s forehead, Zayn circling his arms around Liam’s chest.

“I missed you Zayn,” Liam whispers, lets the words burn an uncomfortable fire across his lips but, for once, he doesn’t regret it.

Zayn yawns quietly, pushing up some until he’s pressing a kiss to Liam’s cheek, resting his head on Liam’s collarbone.

“Missed you too Batman,” Zayn croaks back.  “Now shut the fuck up so I can sleep, yeah?”

Liam laughs lowly, deep in his chest, kicking Zayn’s foot until Zayn bites playfully at his neck.  He knows better, knows where all of this will lead and he’s running out of fingers to count the kisses on.  He pulls Zayn half on top of his own body instead, letting Zayn shift around until he’s completely comfortable with the film on a low buzz where they can make out some of the noises but they don’t need volume for the dialogue.  They repeat all the important lines without hearing them, whispered teasing and flickering smiles shared without even looking at each other.

Liam sighs pleasantly when Zayn’s breathing starts to even out, fingers rubbing small circles into the center of Zayn’s back – _I like where you sleep. When you sleep next to me. I like where you sleep… here._   He nuzzles his nose into Zayn’s hair, Zayn’s arms tightening around him with a deep exhale.

Liam lets his eyes shift shut halfway through the film, not even bothering to check the time or call to check on Louis.  His eyes are a bit lidded when Zayn’s door cracks a little, Tricia peeking in with a glowing smile settling across her lips.  He doesn’t move, fingers still tangled in Zayn’s hair with Zayn mumbling in his sleep just above Liam’s chest.  He tries to swallow, something sinking in his stomach until she nods at them, her eyebrow arched but that smile is comforting in the best kind of way.  She draws back and Liam finally lets his heavy eyes slip shut, Zayn’s name kissing at the edge of his lips – _I fell in love, in love with you suddenly. Now there’s no place I could be but here in your arms._

**

Liam won’t deny that he likes the freedom of closing the shop by himself most nights.  He can take his time as he goes through his checklist – Put away returned books? _Check._ Count down till? _Check._ Make sure to take the trash out of the bins? _Check._ Clean up the shit Louis and Zayn forgot to? _Double check._   It doesn’t usually take him long – unless Louis and Zayn felt particularly lazy that day and then he’s tacking on another hour to his work – and he lingers around the shop just a little longer to enjoy the silence.

Sometimes he’ll sit on the end of the counter, the stereo on low, while trying to finish up that comic he started early in the day.  Some nights he’ll sit in the office, feet kicked up on the desk, while re-reading _Batman: Hush_ because it is, without question, one of the better storylines he’s read in _years_.  He finds himself sitting in that chair Zayn sits in most nights, trying to engross himself in a book Zayn’s told him about until his eyes are too heavy and the words just blend together.  He’s ashamed he has a stack of those books hidden behind the counter in a drawer, not that anyone’s asked for a copy of them in months, but something swells inside of him knowing one day he’ll able to tell Zayn how lovely each of those books were.

He’s not alone tonight.

Zayn’s been in the same spot for hours, boots kicked off, feet resting underneath him on the floor with his glasses resting on a stack of books.  His leather jacket is somewhere thrown behind the desk, but Zayn’s in the middle of one of the aisles, tucked close to the Art section with a book opened in his lap, his head bowed, and shadowy black hair pulled back off of his face.  He’s alternating between chewing on his thumbnail and nipping at his bottom lip, the sparse light left on dusting over those chiseled cheeks, long, thick lashes kissing the tops of his cheeks.

“You know you could help out,” Liam says as he passes, one final stack of books in his hands as he moves toward the Science Fiction section.

Zayn’s head lifts, tweaked smile on his lips.  “I could,” he says, Liam glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of that electric smile before Zayn shrugs, lowering his head again.

Liam groans, laughing lowly to himself.  He kicks Zayn on his way back to the Children’s sections, doesn’t let the fact that Zayn flips him off go unnoticed.  He blinks at Zayn when he stretches, adjusting the book before losing himself in it again.

“Didn’t you have plans tonight?” Liam asks, leaning up against a shelf while looking down at Zayn.

Zayn looks up, a thoughtful expression riding his face.  “Yeah.  Dinner with Danielle.”

Liam winces before he can stop himself, fingers tightening on the shelving behind him.  “What happened?”

“I cancelled,” Zayn says, shrugging with one shoulder.  He runs his teeth over his bottom lip, making a face.  “Wasn’t all that interested.  Poor girl seemed terribly upset.”

Liam snorts, not gleefully, but still.  He drags his foot along the carpet before toeing off his trainers, kicking them into an almost neat pile next to Zayn’s boots.

“Is it just that easy for you to get over someone?” Liam wonders, eyes on their shoes rather than Zayn’s.

“Not everyone,” Zayn admits and Liam thinks there’s something lingering in that response, his eyes lifting just as Zayn’s drop back to his book.  He catches Zayn’s soft timbre when he adds, “Some people have this way of sticking around in your mind.”

Liam nods even though Zayn doesn’t see it.  He lets a lopsided smile slide slickly over his lips when Zayn breathes out a quiet sigh like they both know that feeling.  The way it sort of digs its way into your heart and it stays there, dormant until you least expect it.

Liam doesn’t bother saying anything else, practically stepping over Zayn to get to the office.  He rifles through a few papers, plans Paul’s drawn together for the expansion.  He pushes aside a small collection of comics Louis’ snuck into the office, hiding away sometimes to read them like no one notices.  Liam does.  He smiles when smoothing out a Spider-Man poster, one he knows Harry’s quite fond of before tacking it up on the wall.  Harry’s given him plenty to smile about through the summer; it’s the least Liam could do for him.

“What’s it like for you?”

Liam jumps at the low sound of Zayn’s voice, spinning around instantly.  Zayn’s leaning in the doorway, bubblegum-sticky smile on those pinks lips.  He’s tugging at the collar of his red shirt, bare feet digging into the carpet and his hair is standing tall.  He’s sixteen again with that look in his eyes, soft but a bit broken.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, words stuttered out.

Zayn smirks.  “Getting over someone.  Is it easy for you?”

Liam chews on his lip, leans back against the desk and he’s not really sure how to answer Zayn.  He doesn’t know where he can pull the words from without them sounding uneven or cold because, no, he has no idea how _that_ could be easy.  He hasn’t sorted out how to make it hurt a little less every time he looks at Zayn.

“No,” Liam finally says, his voice flat.  He clears his throat, dragging his hand down his chest.  He looks up through his lashes at Zayn, adding, “But I wouldn’t know.  I haven’t gotten over someone like that, yet.”

Zayn nods, his expression blank for a moment.  “Yet,” he repeats lowly, teeth finding his lip.

It aches in the most intolerable way – that look that settles into honey-brown eyes.  It licks at open wounds, slices at his skin, and he wants Zayn to turn around and leave.  He wants Zayn to shut the fuck up even though Zayn’s not saying anything.  But he is.  He’s doing it with his eyes and Liam knows he has to stop himself.  He has to swallow back those words.

But he doesn’t.

“I’m in love with you,” Liam blurts out when Zayn leans off the doorway and he wants the words to stop when Zayn stiffens but they don’t.

“I’ve loved you for longer than I care to remember.  And not like a friend.  Not like a best mate.  Like I can’t stand you with anyone else.  Like I don’t get how no one else in this damn place gets me, but you do.  It’s the worst fucking feeling but I can’t help it.  And you just won’t go away,” Liam admits, all of the words shaky but he manages to get each one past his lips.  “And I wish that you loved me like _that_.  I wish, every day, that I’d stop thinking you do when you look at me because I’m your mate.  I’m not – “

“I get you tea every morning,” Zayn says his tone a little uneven and his jaw is tense.  “I fight with you about who the best Green Lantern is even though I know you’re right but I don’t want you to be right.  But you’re right, all the time.  Last year, I dressed like the Joker because I knew you were feeling a bit silly dressing like Batman and I didn’t want you to feel silly.  I wanted you to feel _amazing_.

“And I kiss you.  I kiss you and when I think you kiss me back, I’m worried.  I’m worried that you don’t want me to kiss you like that.  I go out with the most daft people I ever met but it’s the only thing I can do while I wait to see if maybe you get that,” Zayn pauses, his chest heavy, fingers curled into fists and he looks angry but caring all at once.  “Maybe you’ll get that I kiss you and I sleep best next to you and I listen to you talk for _hours_ about comics because I think I’m in love with you.  I’m terribly in love with you, Liam.”

Liam blinks at him for a long moment.  He’s not even sure if he’s breathing but his chest rises and falls in synch with Zayn’s, his fingers shaking at his side.  His lips part and he’s not even certain he’s making a sound until he breathes out, “Terribly?”

Zayn laughs softly, nodding.  He drags those nimble fingers through that thick hair and Liam wants to replace them with his own.

“Madly.  Massively.  Fuck, I can’t even find the right word which is insane because I know so many,” Zayn rattles out, his breaths a little shakier.  Something flashes over his face, a trembling smile on his lips.  “ _Incredibly_.  I’m incredibly in love with my best mate.”

Liam nods at him, grins stupidly before repeating, “Incredibly.”

He feels blush tickle his cheeks, down his neck when Zayn makes a face at him, cheeky grin slipping in.  He wants to be creative like Zayn, finds the words that’ll make Zayn’s heart thump like Liam’s was.  He wants to tell him everything but he doesn’t have to.  No, Zayn’s closing that small gap between them quickly, hands on either side of Liam’s face, holding him before Zayn’s lips are pressed against Liam’s.

It’s a real kiss.  Not that the others weren’t but this one?  It’s _magical_.  It’s a symphony of bright lights dancing across the night’s sky.  It’s gentle for seconds too long, soft for far too many breaths but Liam loves every moment of it.  Its lips sliding roughly against each other until Zayn pulls back for a beat, licking his lips and then it’s wet, a gentle sort of slide that works its way across Liam’s stomach.  His hands grip Zayn’s hips, drags him even closer and then that kiss feels like it’s tipping them over the edge, a tongue pressing at the seam of his lips until he’s letting it in and there’s a soft orchestra playing in the back of his mind when Zayn nips at his bottom lip, smiles into another kiss.

This feels like… like Zayn _loves_ him.  Heavy pants, hips grinding against each other and they fight for control for wasted seconds, Liam giving in because, _oh_ , Zayn knows what he’s doing.  And everything he’s doing makes Liam’s toes curl, a fever break over his skin.  His legs spread and he doesn’t know where Zayn has the strength to lift him but he does, pushing Liam back on the edge of the desk.

Everything is swept away as they move, fingers and hands moving a little more frantically when Liam sucks on the tip of Zayn’s tongue, tasting sweet chocolate, cigarettes, the sting of black coffee, and the clever tartness of that blue raspberry lollipop Zayn stole from Harry earlier.  Zayn’s pulling at the hem of his shirt, hands moving in a blur while his lips move like the slow curl on the waves of the ocean.

“I hope this isn’t too forward,” Zayn says through panted breaths when he pulls back, dragging Liam’s shirt up.

Liam lifts his arms instinctively, allowing Zayn just enough room to get the shirt off until he’s dragging Zayn back, slotting their lips together.

“I’d be quite disappointed if you didn’t do more than just that,” Liam breathes against Zayn’s lips, soft keens passing his lips when Zayn’s small nails drag down his chest.

Zayn groans against his lips, hips jerking back and his fingers are tugging at the button, dragging down the zip.  Liam’s batting his hands away, teeth biting at Zayn’s bottom lip as he pushes Zayn’s trousers open and down, hands moving to do the same to his own.

“Fuck Liam,” Zayn gasps, lips dragging down over Liam’s jaw, the side of his neck.

Liam nods, doesn’t have the words to say what his body is already telling Zayn.  He’s lifting his hips, pushing his jeans down and Zayn’s yanking them off one leg at a time while mouthing little hearts and bruises over Liam’s neck.  He’s sucking at Liam’s birthmark, hands on Liam’s knees to pull his legs further apart, fitting between them.

Liam can feel Zayn’s erection tenting through his briefs, those trousers still tangled around Zayn’s thighs and Liam’s trying not to slip off the desk when he scoots forward, fingers tugging at the waistband.

“Can I?” Liam asks through soft pants, Zayn’s mouth carving delicate shapes over his collarbone.

“Yes,” Zayn gasps, hot breath running over the moist parts of Liam’s skin from Zayn’s slick kisses.  “Shit, yes, babe.”

Liam nods, pulling back a little.  He’s delicate about the drag, careful not to let the briefs get caught on the head of Zayn’s cock and his eyes go a bit wide when he gets them down, Zayn’s cock bobbing curved and throbbing before it stands tall against Zayn’s stomach.  Liam can’t swallow, not when he’s thinking about wrapping his lips around the head of that leaking cock, fingers shaking as he goes to pull down his own briefs.

Zayn steps back, nearly falls as he steps out of his pants, dragging off his own shirt while Liam pulls down his briefs.  Zayn steps forward quickly, smacking Liam’s hands away to finish what he’s started, dropping Liam’s briefs onto the desk with a smirk.

“Keep them close,” Zayn says, his voice rough and Liam feels it down in the pit of his stomach.  Zayn leans in, nipping at Liam’s lobe before whispering, “I might need to keep you quiet when I’m fucking you.  Wouldn’t want to be too loud.”

Liam shakes, a full body tremble.  His hand finds the back of Zayn’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss while Zayn’s hands find Liam’s waist, dragging him to the edge of the desk and they’re nothing but wet pants, crowded groans, off-center kisses, and unsteady hands.

When Zayn digs his knees into the carpet of the office floor, Liam’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are blown wide.  His fingers shift into Zayn’s hair at the first lick, Zayn’s long tongue dragging slowly up the underside until it reaches the head of Liam’s cock, swirling around it.  The tip collects precome, Zayn swallowing with a wicked grin on his lips.  Liam makes a face, a choked noise at the back of his throat and he’s spreading his legs, giving Zayn more room.  His feet kick back and forth, Zayn sinking down around him with that wet heat, tongue dragging over his cock until Zayn gets about halfway.

“Zayn,” Liam hisses, the slow drag of teeth across his sensitive skin making his breath hitch.  His fingers dig into the edge of the desk rather than pushing Zayn back down, toes curling when Zayn tongues the slit.

Zayn’s incredible at this – teasing him, making every second of it heart pounding.  He suckles the head, pays enough attention to the slit and Liam’s throwing his head back just to stop from shaking when Zayn sinks back down.  He goes further and further each time, almost gagging but he stops himself, jaw flexing until he’s adjusted.  He’s got fingers loosely wrapped around the shaft, pulling the foreskin back and Liam’s dragging his own fingers down his chest, the pain sharp, to stop himself from coming hot and slick down Zayn’s throat.

“You have no idea babe,” Zayn says while dragging his tongue down the underside.  “How much I’ve wanted you.”

“Me too,” Liam gasps back, eyes clenched shut.  He can’t watch the way Zayn looks when he’s watching Liam through those long lashes, lips swollen and shiny with saliva and precome.  “Christ, Zayn, me too.”

Zayn chuckles at that, taking Liam in his mouth again.

There’s sweat across Zayn’s back later when they’re kissing again.  He runs his fingers over the portion where he knows that large tattoo is, legs wrapped loosely around the backs of Zayn’s thighs.  He’s swallowing each of Zayn’s breaths, his tongue playing along the roof of Zayn’s mouth while Zayn scratches down his back, drags his hands over the tuft of hair in the middle of Liam’s chest.  He runs kisses along Zayn’s chin, the rough drag of scruff along his tongue intoxicating.  His nerves are buzzing, his skin feeling like it’s being burn by radiation.  There’s a tingle at the tips of his fingers, a numbness in his chest and, _fuck_ , he loves the way Zayn keeps grinding his cock right along Liam’s, like they could come just like this.

“Zayn,” Liam breathes out, his voice deep and husky.  He’s a little embarrassed when Zayn pulls back, eyes dark and full like the moon.  “I’m… I mean, um, I’m kind of a – “

Zayn nods slowly, kisses the tip of Liam’s nose.  “I’m your best mate.  You think I don’t know?”

Liam ducks his head, struggles against Zayn’s fingers when they tuck under his chin and lift his head.

“I feel quite daft though.  I mean, what guy at my age is still a – “

“Virgin,” Zayn says for him, leaning into with a grin to kiss at Liam’s lips, chaste but still throbbing.  “And I don’t care about that.  In fact, it makes all of this even more meaningful for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Liam reaches up, rubs a hand at Zayn’s cheek, smiling into another kiss that lasts longer than all of the other ones.  His thumb runs over the definition of Zayn’s cheek, fingers dipping when Zayn’s cheeks hollow to suck on Liam’s tongue.  His other hand reaches down, runs a long line over Zayn’s cock, drawing back the foreskin and Zayn stutters into the kiss.

“We don’t have to though, babe,” Zayn says assuredly.  He’s rubbing at the nape of Liam’s neck, forehead pressed to Liam’s and Liam wants nothing more than to get those kisses back.  “Not tonight.  There will be plenty of nights for that.”

“Yeah,” Liam whispers, inching up and forward.  He drags his lips over Zayn’s, just feeling, never touching.  “But I sort of want to.  Tonight.  I sort of can’t wait.”

“I’ve noticed,” Zayn laughs out, fingers wrapping around Liam’s thickness and he’s stroking Liam lazily, bringing him right to the edge before moving even slower.

Liam arches his back, his cock fucking into that loose sleeve of friction until Zayn’s pulling away, a whine at the back of Liam’s throat.

“You’re sure?” Zayn asks against his lips, just far enough that Liam can see the gold rimming those impossibly delicate and hungry eyes.

Liam nods as best he can, dragging a hand over Zayn’s shoulder.  “Yes.”

Liam’s more than nervous when things shift around.  There’s something pulling at his gut, leaning back on his elbows, completely spread on the desk with his legs hanging off and their shirts under the small of Liam’s back to elevate him.  There’s a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, on his chest, and he wants to stop thinking about it all but he can’t.  There’s a flame hot anxiousness inside of him, a bottled up anxiety right along the lining of his stomach.

They don’t have any lube – thankfully, Zayn has a condom in his wallet – and Zayn has to use his own saliva which is a bit messy but Liam catches the careful trust in Zayn’s eyes when his finger swirls around Liam’s entrance, pushing but never prodding inside.  He’s waiting on Liam, chewing at his lip until Liam gives him a small nod.  Zayn nods back at him, his index finger scratching at his hole before finally sliding inside and it’s a sharp tightness that coils around his stomach.  There’s a hiss pushing past his lips, not that he hasn’t done this before.  He has, in the shower, wanking to the thought of Zayn on his knees, swallowing Liam whole.  But this is different, new because it’s Zayn finger and he’s moving incredibly slow, stilling for seconds until Liam adjusts before he’s sliding knuckle-deep, letting his finger sit while Liam clenches around him.

“Just let me,” Zayn whispers and then he’s pulling out, sliding back in and it’s easier this time.  It’s better, the way Zayn fucks with just that finger until it’s not one, it’s two.  The burn lasts a little longer but there’s something else joining it.

“Oh.”

There’s a pleasure striking him, that fullness he never knew he wanted.  Zayn’s thrusting in him with a determined look on his face, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against Liam’s lips, fingers twisting and scissoring.  He’s opening Liam up, Liam’s legs stretching further apart and Zayn smirks, reaching for a new angle.

“Tell me,” Zayn says with a ragged breath, slowly stroking his own cock while fucking Liam with his fingers.

Liam’s distracted by that, the way Zayn looks aroused, dark and glowing at once, before he stutters out, “Tell you what?”

Zayn smirks sideways, brow lowering.  “You’ll know.”

He wants to ask Zayn _what he’ll know_ but then Zayn’s middle finger pushes roughly against something and Liam jerks, his body shivering before Zayn’s pushing down on his hips with his arm, holding him in place before striking that bundle of nerves once more with a glint in his eyes.

“Zayn,” Liam gasps out, his throat dry from panting too hard.

“I told you to tell me babe,” Zayn says, his voice rough.  He’s pressing particularly hard on that spot now, Liam’s toes curling and he feels like he’s going to come just that quickly.

“ _Zayn_.”

“Feel good?”

Liam nods, fingers curling around the edge of the desk until Zayn pulls back, shallow thrusts.  His nerves are on fire, his skin far too hot and the way Zayn’s leering at him, like he could ruin Liam with just those looks, makes everything twist inside of him.

“Come on, Zayn.” Liam heaves out, head tipping back, his thighs aching from stretching further for Zayn.  “Fuck me.”

“Still not ready,” Zayn says while shaking his head, slipping a third finger in and Liam feels impossibly full now, everything stretching and he’s doing his best to adjust quickly now because, fuck, he needs Zayn _inside_ of him.  He needs that face close enough to kiss those lips, drag the oxygen out of Zayn’s lungs while Zayn pounds into him with Liam’s name on his lips.

“Just, _fuck_ ,” Liam begs, foot kicking back and slamming into the desk, rattling the shelves holding a few books on the walls.  He’s chewed up, his tongue sticky like melting candy and his eyes are wet with a need, bottom lip trembling.  “ _Please_ , Zayn.”

Zayn smiles, nearly drapes his entire body over Liam until they’re kissing, noses bumping while Zayn continues to open Liam with just his fingers and cautious eyes.

Liam doesn’t know when Zayn’s fingers pull out or when he slides the condom on.  His hole is still clenching, missing some of that fullness, and he’s slick down there, feels it dripping on the desk.  There’s a dull ache also, something he can’t seem to get out of his mind, not even when Zayn’s dragging him until he’s nearly off the desk, lining himself up.

“A little wider,” Zayn tells him, his voice soft and inviting and Liam nods, teeth sinking into his lips as he spreads his legs for Zayn.

“Gonna hurt too,” Zayn warns him, pushing gently but he won’t slide in.  “If you need me to stop – “

“I know,” Liam says, nodding.  Zayn’s said it more than a dozen times since they started all of this and he doesn’t need a reminder.  He can see it in Zayn’s eyes – he’s not going to hurt Liam, not on purpose.  It’s a soft, cushioning reminder that Liam clings to when Zayn nods, hips dragging forward and the head starts to push at the ring.

Liam winces immediately.  He feels on fire, a raw feeling that aches along his bones.  The head pushes in and it’s _much_ thicker than three fingers.  It’s wider, has a different shape that’s blunt and forceful.  He grabs the edges of the desk and he can sense Zayn slowing, almost pulling out until Liam makes an aborted noise, hopes it’s enough to keep Zayn from pulling out.

Zayn doesn’t.  He pushes a little further in, slowly but with a little force because Liam’s _tight_.  He’s clenching around Zayn, his mind refusing to let him relax and there’s a little struggle before he lets go for a moment, the burn striking hotter against his skin as Zayn pushes forward.  His head drops back, thudding against the desk and he’s trying not to feel ripped apart, feels that sliver of pleasure riding along his spine when Zayn shifts, opening him a little more.

Zayn’s hands are holding his waist, sliding down to rub the inside of his thighs and Liam’s nodding, breathing through clenched teeth.  His back is arching – _wrong move_ – and everything’s a little blurry in front of his eyes but Zayn’s staying still, letting Liam’s body adjust naturally.  And he does, kind of, enough to nod for Zayn, letting Zayn sink just a little deeper.

“ _Stop_ ,” Liam heaves out, body snapping up until he’s putting all of his weight on one elbow, his other hand on Zayn’s hip to hold him in place.  “Stop Zayn.”

Zayn freezes immediately, panic settling into his expression.  He’s got wide eyes, that lust ghosted away by concern.  He’s dipping down, shaking more than Liam is while draping kisses along Liam’s neck, across his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn says, his voice a bit broken.

Liam wants to comfort him but he’s focusing on adjusting to the stretch, the way his stomach has coiled around itself.  His breathing is uneven, drafty and it hurts right along his lungs but he closes his eyes, finds that point where pain shifts just under the pleasure.  And those kisses from chapped, raw lips shiver down his skin like daybreak in the sky.

“You’re so beautiful,” Zayn whispers against his shoulder, nuzzling his nose there, “and I love you.”

Liam feels Zayn’s hips drawing backward, his cock dragging slowly from Liam and Liam shakes.  He feels a pained regret hit him immediately, fingers finding Zayn’s hip, thumb sweeping over that large inked heart.

“Wait.”

“No, Li,” Zayn says lowly, still drawing back until Liam pinches his fingers into Zayn’s skin, drawing out a long hiss from Zayn’s lips.

“Just, _don’t_ ,” Liam mutters, holding Zayn inside of him.  He can feel the throb of Zayn’s cock, the way its still hard but he knows part of Zayn is unwilling.

“But – “

“I need you,” Liam finally says, his grip tight enough to pull Zayn forward, pushing deeper in Liam again. The stretch doesn’t burn as much, stings like a low crawl against his nerves but, _oh_ , there’s something riding above that, just on the crest of pleasure.

“Just don’t,” Liam pleads, head tipping back until he can look into Zayn’s eyes.

“Not going to hurt you,” Zayn says and he means it.  Liam knows he does.

“I know, I just,” Liam’s words catch on a moan, legs shifting wide again.  He feels Zayn fighting him but he’s a little stronger, pulling Zayn in _deeper, deeper, almost_.  “I need you, Zayn.”

“Liam,” Zayn stutters out, words breaking on a gasp.

Liam inhales deep, hand sliding up to the small of Zayn’s back before he’s jerking Zayn all the way in, bottoming out and he can’t tell if it’s his moan or Zayn’s that rattles against the walls of that tiny office, but it doesn’t matter when he feels Zayn pressing against the tight walls of his hole.

Liam tips his head up, strains his neck to press a kiss against Zayn’s chin.

“I’m okay,” Liam says in a hushed voice, that fullness feeling like a tidal wave that rushes over some untouched pleasure over his skin.

Zayn’s incredible at this.  The first few strokes are slow, painfully so, letting Liam adjust to all of the new sensations.  There’s kisses over his forehead, comforting hands that run over Liam’s chest, down his stomach, over his cock until he’s hard again.  But then it’s deep strokes, ones that feel incredible going in, Liam wanting him deep when Zayn pulls out.  There’s sweat sticking to their skin and husky breaths that sound ragged and dry but Liam doesn’t care.

Zayn moves like he _owns_ every bit of this.  His hips are swift, slow, mid-tempo like all of his favorite Usher songs.  It’s a whirl, the way his head spins, when Zayn pushing deep into him until Liam thinks he can’t reach further.  A gasp breaks his lips when Zayn does, fizzling grin on Zayn’s lips.  He’s not cocky about it, well he sort of is, but he’s skillful with every motion.  Each thrust has a purpose, a way of making Liam’s moans curl around his breaths and he’s holding onto the desk to keep himself from losing all control.

He’s leaking against his stomach, Zayn’s hands on the back of his thighs, pushing his legs up and wider and, fuck, Zayn hits something that has stars, fucking _stars_ on the backs of Liam’s eyelids.  His hips angle, stroking in just right and Liam’s knocked off of his elbows, lying flat on the desk and he’s trembling with a moan, watching the ceiling rather than the way Zayn’s smiling down at him.  And then Zayn’s covering him, kissing at all of the softest parts and it’s not just sex for minutes.  No, it’s Zayn whispering things against his skin, making promises Liam knows he’ll keep, kissing Liam’s parted lips until Liam is dizzy and smiling all at once.

He wants to push his hips back, fuck himself onto Zayn’s cock but the position is all wrong and he hates giving up control.  He hates not having some say so in things but, oh, Zayn’s so _good_ at what he’s doing that he doesn’t think he’ll mind.  Not when Zayn’s stomach is rubbing against his cock and he’s sort of feeling unbelievable with Zayn so far in him that he’s hitting his prostate without trying.

When Zayn pulls back, steadies himself on the ground again without pulling out of Liam, there’s a thick smear across his stomach.  It highlights the definition there and it takes Liam more than a few seconds to realize that’s his precome.  It’s those thick spurts of stickiness that Zayn keeps fucking out of Liam’s cock every time he glides inward.  And his breath catches when he reaches down, shaky fingers wrapping around himself and he’s _trembling_ , shocked at how amazing it feels.

“Do it, babe,” Zayn says with a tight grin, sweat sticking to his forehead as he thrusts a little rougher in Liam.  “Touch it, Li.  Let it go.”

Liam nods, chewing painfully at his lip and he’s stroking himself quickly, head tipping back.

Zayn’s a little stiff with some of his thrust but he’s striking a fire in Liam that Liam holds onto, breathless as he jerks himself in time with those movements.  And he’s coming before he realizes Zayn already has with a choked moan and hissed grunt, streaking his stomach and chest with his jaw slack and his eyes wide.  Zayn’s still above him, small little roll of his hips and shallow thrusts helping Liam ride his orgasm out.  It’s splendid rapture, feeling so torn apart and put together at once.

He’s still holding his soft cock when Zayn pulls out slowly, tying off the condom and dropping it into the bin under the desk.  His breathing is still a bit ragged when Zayn uses Liam’s briefs to wipe away the come and sweat from their bodies.  He’s a falling star when Zayn presses kisses against his temple, right along his round cheek, dipping to his lips and Liam’s sliding into the kiss with a smile, his hand behind Zayn’s head to keep him close.

“Amazing,” Liam heaves out, grinning when Zayn nuzzles his nose to Liam’s.

“Yeah?”

“You have to ask?” Liam chuckles out, head jerking to that puddle of come on the desk Zayn missed.

Zayn makes a face, Liam snickering beneath him before their lips are pressed together again, electric mayhem that Liam lingers in.

“You do realize Paul is going to fire us, yeah?” Liam teases, lips brushing lightly over Zayn’s.

“For having sex in the office?” Zayn asks, eyebrows waggling before Liam’s tipping his head back with a laugh.  “Or because of,” Zayn tries to wave a hand between them, “ _this_?”

“This?” Liam says, his eyebrow lifting.

Zayn nods slowly, chewing on the inside of his lip.  Liam furrows his brow some before Zayn’s shaking his head, a tinge of regret settling into his expression.

“Never mind,” Zayn mutters against Liam’s lips, pushing out a smile that Liam doesn’t believe.  “Besides, he hasn’t fired Harry and Lou yet.”

“He likes Harry,” Liam teases, batting at a smile that Zayn stares at.  “And I think he just tries to avoid all forms of communication with Lou whenever possible.”

Zayn snorts, nodding into the crook of Liam’s neck.

“He likes you more than all of us so, I’m safe,” Zayn admits lowly and Liam can’t help but agree.  Paul really does.  Maybe not enough to allow Liam to have sex in the back office, on his desk, with Zayn, but maybe enough that he won’t complain if Liam doesn’t get that last stack of books from the front because he’s quite literally sore from being fucked gloriously by said employee.

He’s sitting up on the desk, chewing on his nail and watching Zayn stretch in the doorway twenty minutes later.  They still haven’t slid into their clothes and the light’s shining solidly over that valley of gold skin.  It’s catching the muscles in Zayn’s back, right along his spine, the curve of his ass that Liam’s never seen naked.  He tilts his head smiling, Zayn glancing over his shoulder with a weak expression.

“Enjoying the view?” Zayn wonders with a cheeky grin, flexing a little until his hips arch and Liam’s eyes go wide with excitement.

“Is it mine?” Liam asks lowly, sitting back some.

Zayn blinks at him, turning.  He runs his fingers through his mused hair, the sweat still leaving pieces of it stuck to Zayn’s forehead.

“Do you have to ask?”

“I don’t know,” Liam says with a shrug, nipping at his bottom lip.  “It’s just that, I know what we said and all, but does that mean you’re mine?  _Officially_?  Like you’re my – “

“Boyfriend?” Zayn asks with an arched eyebrow and sympathetic smile.

Liam makes a face, rubbing at the back of his neck.  “The title’s kind of cheesy, yeah?”

Zayn snorts, shaking his head.  “Never been fond of it until I thought about how it would sound when it came to you.”

“Really?”

Zayn nods, licking at his lips.  “Yeah.  And, yeah, I’m yours.  Your, um, _boyfriend_.”

“Boyfriend,” Liam repeats lowly and it feels warm against his chest, like something nuclear.  He wants to repeat it over and over, let that neon smile on his lips remain until he’s sick of it.  He doesn’t think he’ll ever be sick of it.

“C’mere,” Zayn says lowly, leaning in the doorway again.  There’s something solemn in his expression, needy.

Liam hesitantly hops off the desk, soreness already creeping in but he smiles at that.  He knows every inch of that ache was worth the pain.

It only takes a few steps until he’s up against Zayn, gently pushing him into the wall and pressing their lips together.  There’s a neediness in Zayn’s kisses, a silent plea that Liam doesn’t understand until Zayn’s hand slips between their bodies, cradling Liam’s cock, stroking it until Liam’s half-hard.

Liam pulls back quickly, shock curving over his face.  “Zayn?”

“ _C’mon_ babe,” Zayn whispers, a fragileness in his tone but his eyes tell Liam everything.  Everything he wants but doesn’t have to say.  “Please, Liam.  Come on.”

Liam shakes his head for a moment, swallowing, and he knows he’s far too exhausted to comply but his cock – it’s hard, pulsing in Zayn’s palm, ignoring whatever the rest of his body is trying to say.  His breathing is uneven again and Zayn’s running that tongue over his lips again, brilliant gold filtering into those dark brown eyes.

“We don’t have another condom,” Liam tells him, a hand rubbing at Zayn’s shoulder while his other cradles Zayn’s hip, lips dancing just above Zayn’s.

“Don’t need one,” Zayn says back, his skin flush and he’s pressing his erection into Liam’s hip.  “I trust… I mean, if it’s okay?  Because I don’t – _fuck_ , Liam, I don’t know what I’m trying to say but, please, just –“

Liam presses his lips to Zayn’s, rough and wet, nodding for Zayn.  He trusts Zayn, completely.  It’s wrong, his mind is telling him, but that need in Zayn’s eyes, that vulnerability that no one sees.  No one other than Liam.

Liam turns Zayn roughly, pushes him until Zayn braces his hands on the wall, dragging kisses down the back of Zayn’s shoulder.  He wets his fingers, tongue sliding between them, around them and he can taste himself there.  He can smell that musky scent, that sweat from his balls and cock and he doesn’t care.  He slides them down the small of Zayn’s back, the curve of Zayn’s ass, down the crack until he’s rubbing at Zayn’s hole.

“Liam,” Zayn pleads, hips thrusting backward.

Liam nods again, eases a finger in, waits until that hiss passes Zayn’s lips before he’s inching further in.  He’s dragging it back, pushing in, working his fingers into Zayn until he’s trembling, nails scratching against the wall.  He’s adding another finger, biting at Zayn’s shoulder because Zayn’s not as tight as Liam was.  No, he’s done this before.  Liam knows it, not that he wanted to overhear that story Zayn told Louis that day but it sort of haunted him for two weeks after that day that someone else had been inside of Zayn.

“ _Please_ , babe,” Zayn moans, strangling the sound because he doesn’t want to sound desperate.

Liam smiles against the back of Zayn’s neck, feathering kisses there while Zayn fucks himself on Liam’s fingers.  His tongue drags over that tattoo, pleasure striking him like a bullet when Zayn reaches back with a slick hand, coating Liam’s cock in his spit.

“I’m ready,” Zayn tells him through tight pants, Liam pressing his fingers in sharp and deep, a fairytale of groans leaving Zayn’s lips when Liam presses along Zayn’s prostate.

“Fuck, babe,” Zayn whines, hips tipping back and Liam presses a hand to small of Zayn’s back to settle him, nodding against Zayn’s other shoulder.

“I love you Zayn,” Liam whispers, lips smearing bruises along Zayn’s skin.

“Love,” Zayn’s holding tight on a groan, “love you too, babe.”

“You do, don’t you?” Liam chuckles, feels Zayn’s desperation as his spine coils, shoulders dropping when Liam lines himself up.  “You love me like I love you.”

“More,” Zayn shivers out, wincing when Liam pushes in.

“No,” Liam tells him, holding stiff and still with just the head resting inside of Zayn.  “The same.  Always the same.”

Zayn glances over his shoulder, nodding slowly with his lip caught behind his teeth.

It’s a drum, cascading thump along his head, his heart.  He slides further in, watching Zayn’s eyes slide shut and the ache continues until he’s all the way in, the wiry hair surrounding his cock pressed to Zayn’s ass and he stays there, breathing against the back of Zayn’s neck, letting him adjust to the stretch, pulsing in his own desire until he knows he’s not going to come just from being inside of Zayn like this.

Liam moves as slow as Zayn did, finds his own rhythm that keeps him deep and stiff in Zayn.  He bites along the side of Zayn’s neck, a hand in Zayn’s hair, tugging lightly until Zayn turns his head so Liam can fit a kiss to his lips.  It builds like a swelling melody, their pants, the way Liam’s hands run over Zayn’s hips, his clenched stomach, his chest.  Liam’s name spills softly over Zayn’s lips, quiet and hushed like Zayn’s not supposed to let it out.  Liam smiles at him, eyes closing while burying his nose in the crook of Zayn’s neck.

Liam’s clumsy, still so new to this, slipping out of Zayn a few times.  Zayn’s choking on a gasp each time he lines himself up again, sliding back into that wet, tight heat.  There’s a new drumming of pants passing his own lips each time, gripping Zayn’s shoulder when Zayn spreads his legs a little further.  Liam does his best to pound against Zayn’s prostate, the sticky sound of skin slapping skin playing like the best rock song.

He’s still sore, his muscles crying out but he doesn’t stop.  No, Zayn’s _mewling_ , the way those pants fall from his lips like the stuttering of fingers scratching a record keep Liam deep in Zayn.  He feels his own hole clenching from the pressure, still too raw, and he’s biting at the tip of his tongue to stop himself from coming because it’s so hot, so wet inside of Zayn and he’s way too sensitive the second time around to hold onto an orgasm.

Zayn’s toes dig into the carpet, back arched.  His hair is fucked, his skin sizzling with each touch, and he’s pushing back, keeping Liam deep.  Liam has a hand on the small of his back, gripping into his hip until he leaves bruises as he pulls Zayn back.  He’s shaking, Zayn remaining strong and supportive, fucking into Zayn with love on the tip of his tongue.

“Babe,” Zayn breathes out, lashes sticking to his cheeks but he’s only got one hand on the wall now, the other one between his legs.  “You’re going to make me come.”

The thought alone makes Liam lurch forward, his body draped over Zayn’s as he thrusts a little shallower.  He wants to peak over Zayn’s shoulder, watch the way Zayn works his hand over his dark, flushed cock but he can’t.  He’s breathing into Zayn’s neck, eyes shut, holding Zayn tightly.

“Harder,” Zayn gasps, resting his forehead on the wall for a moment.

Liam complies, tipping his hips higher and moving into Zayn from a new angle.

“You’re so tight,” he gasps, jerking up until he hits Zayn’s prostate once more.  “So incredibly tight, Zayn.  Fuck, you feel… you feel fantastic.”

“Liam,” Zayn moans, dragging out every syllable, his hand sliding down the wall but Liam’s there to catch him, holding him as he shakes.

“Come on,” Liam says encouragingly, kissing at Zayn’s cheek.  “Come because you love how I feel in you.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Because I’m all you want,” Liam adds, his voice deep.  “Because _this_ is all I want.  All the fucking time.”

Zayn nods, biting down hard on his lip and Liam thinks he sees a drop of blood break through but then Zayn’s clenching around him, tight heat pulling on his cock and Zayn’s coming on his knuckles, on the carpet, his feet.  His head is thrown back, resting on Liam’s shoulder, Liam’s name sputtered across his lips.

Zayn’s still thrusting back, clenching weakly around Liam, his mouth gaped.  Liam kisses along his jaw, a couple of more thrusts deep in Zayn before he’s pulling out, trying to support them both as he comes without touching his cock.  He shakes with it, coming along the back of Zayn’s thigh, stepping onto his tiptoes and letting it slide over Zayn’s lower back.  He’s dripping along the small of Zayn’s back, helplessly rubbing his pulsing cock between Zayn’s cheeks, up his back until Zayn’s making a face, snickering.

“Christ, Li, you’re making a mess on me,” Zayn gasps out, weakly reaching back to run his hand over Liam’s head.

Liam pants hard, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s midsection.  He pulls Zayn closer, his nose nuzzling into Zayn’s hair for a second.  He presses aching kisses along Zayn’s neck, smiling.

“You made a mess of me years ago.”

Zayn grins at that, blush tinting those sculpted cheeks.  Liam smiles sweetly, wanting nothing more than to find the words to make Zayn glow like that all of the time.

He’s stumbling forward until they’re pressed to the wall, the sturdy structure supporting them as they hold onto each other.  Zayn’s rubs at his own shoulder, a small sign of shyness that doesn’t go unnoticed by Liam.  He nudges at Zayn’s jaw with his nose, grinning when Zayn snickers and he’s leaning up to press a proper kiss to Zayn’s lips, relaxing into the feel of Zayn’s quiet warmness.

Their eyes shift shut and Liam knows there’s nothing that’ll make them move.  Not for a long time, at least.  No, their fingers slide into the open spaces between them, Zayn’s head resting against Liam’s temple, bodies coiled together with Zayn’s back to Liam’s chest.  They’re sharing the same breaths and Liam knows, without questioning this time, that this is where they belong.

This closeness is what they’ll always have with each other.

**

**December**

 

The Book Nook has one steady thing about it – _the schedule_.  It’s open seven days a week, hell or high water, through every holiday except Paul’s favorite – Christmas.  There’s something about the month of December where Paul feels a lot more jovial, giving, willing to put up with all of Louis’ shit, Zayn’s laziness, and all the other lows of owning a used book shop that sells comics, DVD’s, and vinyl.  He closes the shop every year for a week in December, usually the week that falls around Christmas, giving the few employees time off to spend with family, friends, and lovers.  And he’s rather generous with a Christmas bonus, though Liam’s certain the shop never earns him enough to afford their salaries, let alone a Christmas bonus which none of them actually have _earned_ , except for maybe Liam, but that’s beside the point.

This year is no exception, even though most of the renovations have been completed and the Book Nook is now Once Upon a Latte, – a name Niall suggested that Liam wasn’t too fond of, though he preferred it tremendously over Louis’ suggestion of Hansel and Kettle – Paul still decides to shut the shop down for a week to enjoy every moment of the Christmas holiday.  Liam is thankful too, using what money he’s saved, plus the Christmas bonus, to purchase a ticket to visit his parents in Savannah for Christmas.  And Paul’s thrown an extra week in so Liam can spend more than just a couple of days away from Wolverhampton – “If I could give you more, Liam, I would,” he tells Liam one morning as they’re rearranging the new tables for customers to read and have coffee at – which Liam feels chuffed about, despite Louis’ protesting because, well, Louis doesn’t do well when Liam’s gone for too long.

Harry’s helped Phoebe to organize most of the musical entertainment, even hosting his own open mic night once a week which is mainly acoustic sets, Josh playing drums for a few of Harry’s Uni friends, Harry’s friend Ed drawing the largest crowds because his music is quite addictive, even Liam will admit.  The shop doesn’t lose its homeliness, which most of the regular customers appreciate, but there’s also Wi-Fi now and a sleeker appeal, which brings in newer customers and Liam finds a smile quirked on his lips whenever he sees how long the queue is for coffee or the latest copy of some new bestseller.

The comic book section expands, something Liam takes full control over to ensure none of his favorite titles are lost in the shuffle, and Niall seems to find his own knack for entertainment by reading to the children in the shop for an hour every day during the week.  Eleanor helps to organize the wait staff while Zayn decorates the walls in abstract art, a few character drawings of the staff, and a some superhero paintings that Liam proudly helps Mary hang once a week.  And Liam feels lost in his own little world, managing the shop whenever Paul and Marry are not around, Louis continuously giving him shit – he expects that – but everyone else follows all of his instructions with smiles and an ease that Liam wasn’t expecting.

He feels at home, even though his ‘home’ doesn’t look like it did when he was a sixteen year old looking for the latest copy of _Teen Titans_ on a small shelf that barely held enough titles to keep him entertained for a week.  Yet, it’s still the place he knows he _belongs_.

The streets are covered in a light dusting of white, snow falling from the sky for brief minutes before it’s cold and windy.  Customers filter in through the door at a constant pace, shaking snowflakes off of their jackets and coats, hanging their scarves on the backs of their chairs, some going straight to the queue for a cup of cocoa while others lose themselves in the aisles for hours.  It’s warm in the shop, a steady shifting wind sinking in every time the doors are pulled open, but Liam doesn’t complain.  He merely hugs at himself in his thin jumper, sipping slowly on his tea while watching the way the world is blanketed in that ivory sheen that he loves best about Wolverhampton.

That stereo that used to filter in music lowly has been replaced by an actual sound system that plays more top forty – something that Louis rejoices at – but every now and again, Harry slips behind the coffee counter to adjust the station and something low like Stevie Nicks or Nirvana slides into the speakers and a smile tips on Liam’s lips, waiting until Louis complaining full on with Harry shaking his head and dancing around the tables.  But it’s playing low now – _Maroon Five_ , he thinks but he’s not too sure – and he’s pulling fingers through his hair, which is longer at the top, a smaller version of Zayn’s quiff which he kind of likes, Zayn loves, and Louis complains about any chance he gets.

“He wants me to spend Christmas with Gemma,” Louis sighs when he plops down into one of the empty chairs at the small circular table Liam’s sitting at.

It’s Liam’s favorite table, the one closest to one of the windows where Liam can look out on the streets and think peacefully while flipping through a comic or actually reading one of those books Zayn suggested to him months ago.  Everyone knows its Liam’s table, even stopping more than a few customers from sitting there when they know Liam’s about to go on lunch, even though Liam insists not doing such a thing – “We can’t afford to reserve tables when we’re still trying to bring in new business,” he tells them one morning, everyone yawning and waving him off – but they all ignore him.  He can’t help the grin that spreads over his lips when there’s always a cup of steaming tea and a copy of _Green Lantern_ waiting for him each time he goes to sit down.

Liam looks up curiously, blinking at Louis.  “What’s wrong with that?  You _like_ Gemma.”

Louis nods while rolling his eyes, waving his hand at Liam.  “I do.  But he wants me to spend Christmas, his favorite holiday, with Gemma.  And his parents.”

“ _Oh._ ”

Louis sighs, slinking further into the chair.  He reaches out to steal a chocolate chip cookie from the small plate in front of Liam, Liam quickly swatting his hand away before he can.

“His parents,” Louis groans, hands on the table with his fingers splayed like he wants to push the table away.  “His fucking _parents_ , Li.  I mean, what the fuck?  Are we on that level now?”

Liam snorts, slow swallow of tea as he thinks of a good way to answer him.

“You do know he’s your boyfriend, right?” Liam asks slowly, lowering his cup.

“I don’t like titles,” Louis says flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you’ve been together for what?  Nearly six months now?”

“ _Five_ ,” Louis corrects him.  “I’m not counting August.”

Liam chuckles at that.  August, the month Zayn now refers to _“The One Month Anniversary Month from Hell… along with the Birthday You’ll Never Forget Month.”_   Liam tries to ignore the last part because Zayn truly did some amazing things that night, but he can’t block out the way Louis nearly _freaked_ when Harry actually bought Louis a gift to celebrate them being together for one whole month.  An actual gift – some silly hipster-like necklace that really wasn’t all that grand but the speech Harry gave was, something Liam still laughs at – that had Louis _panicking_ and not answering Harry’s calls for a week.

And it really was stupid, the way Louis made everything in life so counterproductive by overanalyzing and overreacting.  Liam expected nothing less, Harry unfortunately didn’t know any better.  Liam felt sort of bad, Harry showing up at their flat with actual _tears_ in his eyes, a pathetic bouquet of flowers – which nearly had Louis jumping out of the window, except they were on the third floor and Louis’ not that manic – and Liam spent the night at Zayn’s, ignoring the way his phone was constantly buzzing with texts from Louis.

“Doesn’t matter,” Liam tells him, eyes narrowing.  “Go and spend the holiday with his family.  I’m sure they’ll love you.  Or hate you, but you’re the Tommo, so that doesn’t matter.”

Louis purses his lips, giving Liam a suspicious look.  “Either that was a compliment or you’ve been hanging around that little shit Malik for far too long.”

Liam shrugs, grinning.  He’s pretty certain it’s the latter but he’s not willing to admit that.

“You’re literally intolerable sometimes, Lou,” Liam teases, reaching up to drag at the beanie on Louis’ head.  If Zayn has rubbed off on Liam, then Harry has completely fucked, wrecked, and demolished Louis.

Louis’ lips spread into a prideful grin, leaning back in his chair while kicking his feet up on an empty seat.

“Thank you,” Louis eases out and Liam can’t stop the laugh from bubbling from his lips.

“Oi, have you lot tried the new brownies they have?  Or the vanilla cookies with the little sugar sprinkles?” Niall asks, dragging the chair from beneath Louis’ feet and Louis’ tipping into the table, Liam swiftly grabbing his tea and plate before Louis quite literally shakes them off.  Niall’s shrugging when Louis flips him off, dropping down into the seat once occupied by Louis’ feet.

“Must you always try to give St. Nick a run for his money with your incessant eating?” Louis asks with a hiss, making a face at all of the sweets and biscuits piled on Niall’s tiny plate.

“Oh, those look brilliant – “

“ _Don’t_ ,” Liam warns Niall as he reaches for one of Liam’s cookies.  Niall whimpers, looking completely gutted but Liam drags his plate away from Niall’s fingers, his head shaking.

“I swear you lot better tip as good as Liam here or I’m kicking you out of my section.”

Liam glances up, that snarky tone brilliantly blissful to his ears.  He grins when Eleanor stands over them, a hand on her hip with her wavy brown hair pulled up into a messy bun, an actual pen holding it all together, and those doe brown eyes are wide with a smile curled over her lips.  The cold brings a soft blush to those cheeks but everything about her makes him feel warm and soft.

“Just make sure Carol’s not the one who makes my coffee this time, babe,” Louis tells her, glancing over his shoulder and making a face at the older woman behind the counter who’s pouring a pint of sugar into someone’s coffee, stirring it with one of those plastic stirrers with a smile that is smudged in red lipstick.  Louis actually shivers, upper lip curling.

“She’s awful,” Louis adds, looking back to Eleanor whose lips are quirked upward with a grin.

“Can I get a cocoa?” Niall requests, mouthful of chocolate bars and Liam’s not sure where he got them from.

“And a bagel,” Louis tacks on, playful smile on his lips that Eleanor rolls her eyes at.

“Anything else?  Or would you lot like a few more minutes to think it over?” Eleanor teases, scribbling a bunch of things on a small notepad.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something else by the time you get back,” Niall says with a grin that pushes his cheeks entirely too high on his face.

Eleanor snorts, Liam ducking his head.  How he hasn’t managed to find a new set of friends in the past five months, he doesn’t quite understand.  He sorts out that Zayn’s laziness is starting to rub off on him too.

“You just remember to call me later on you little Irish shit,” Eleanor says softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Niall’s full cheek before she’s scurrying off.

Louis gapes at Niall, Liam leaning back with wide eyes.  Niall glances at both of them sheepishly, shrugging.

“What the entire fuck?” Louis stutters out.

“What he said,” Liam says, jerking his head in Louis’ direction.

“What?”

“Fucking hell, Horan,” Louis breathes out, looking wrecked and confused.  “Aren’t you seeing Cher?”

“Broke things off in late October.  Too clingy and she bites a little too hard in the bedroom,” Niall says offhandedly, eyes still focused on his plate.  He’s shoving a cookie in his mouth, smiling happily at Liam.

“Josh?”

“Nothing serious,” Niall says, looking a bit annoyed but Louis can’t stop glaring at him.

“Nothing serious,” Liam repeats, a faint smile shifting over his face.

Niall nods with another shrug.  “We’re fucking.  Or something like that.  Don’t think either want us thinks it’s a good idea to start a relationship like that.  And so, I came in for a cup of coffee and…”

The words sort of die off, Niall making a few motions with his hands to explain something but Liam’s quite certain he hasn’t gotten past the part about Niall and Josh fucking.  Or something like that.

“And you managed to pull _my ex-girlfriend_ into your ring of misfortune?” Louis hisses, eyes still wide.

“Oh come off it, Lou.  That was ages ago,” Niall argues, leaning back like he’s unimpressed.

“What was ages ago?  The last time either of you had a good workout?”

Liam’s lips move on instinct, sliding with the corners of his lips lifting and he’s smiling the minute a chair is slid over the tile floor toward the table.  An arm slinks around his shoulders, the sticking scent of kiwi and cigarettes invading his senses, and Zayn’s pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before sitting down, grinning at Louis and Niall.

The scruff on his cheeks is thicker, a cascading shadow outlining his jaw and chin.  The hair on the sides of his head is nearly shaven off, the hair on top much longer and thicker, pulled up it a loose quiff.  His skin is a sunglow shade, the gray skies taking away some of that richer complexion but Liam knows when they’re alone, in the dark, he can see the way Zayn’s skin glitters.  He’s got dried paint on his fingers, spots along his forearms where there’s a few more tattoos and he grins when he spots the ‘L’ standing alone just beneath that yin yang tattoo on his other wrist – “I don’t ever want it to get lost in all of the other stuff I put on my skin.  I want it to stand out where I can look at it and know, in all of the mess in my life, you always stand out,” Zayn told him when he got it, licking sweet kisses against Liam’s lips when he was too speechless to reply – reaching out to smooth his thumb over it for a second.

“Piss off,” Louis grumbles, kicking at Zayn’s foot beneath the table.

Liam catches the way Zayn’s lips quirk to say something, leaning forward quickly until he’s in Zayn’s eye line, picking out the gold, amber, and honey in them before blurting out, “Did you finish your new piece babe?”

Zayn narrows his eyes at Louis for a second, chewing on his lips when Louis sticks his tongue out at him before turning his attention to Liam.

“Not yet,” Zayn sighs, pulling Liam closer.  He flips Louis off without looking at him, grinning at Liam when Liam’s eyes widen.  “Almost though.”

“You’d better hurry,” Liam tells him, chewing softly on his bottom lip.  “If you want us to be able to go to your mum’s house for dinner tomorrow with her and your sisters.  And you still haven’t finished packing for – “

“Still scared shitless about your first trip to America to meet Liam’s parents?” Louis asks in a teasing tone, Zayn grimacing immediately.

“What?” Liam asks, searching between Zayn and Louis with his brow furrowing.  “You’re worried?  You didn’t tell me that.”

Zayn turns to Louis, a scowl setting into his expression.  “You know you truly are a shit mate.”

“I tell him that all the time,” Niall agrees, smiling when Louis slaps his arm.

“Fuck you both.”

Liam curls his fingers under Zayn’s chin, turning his head to face Liam despite Zayn fighting him.  He blinks at Zayn, spots the shyness immediately slide in when Zayn rubs at the back of his neck, colorful fingers leaving behind faint smudges of paint against his skin before his teeth pull in his bottom lip, eyes lowering until those long lashes sweep against his cheeks.

“You’re scared to meet my parents?  You don’t want to go with me?”

“No, no,” Zayn says quickly, his head snapping up.  He looks ruined, his face contorting like he’s trying to find the words but can’t.  “I want to go with you.  I want to be with you, babe.  I’m excited that I was able to get a ticket to fly with you.”

Louis might’ve been a shit friend but he’d managed to do one thing right – buying Zayn a plane ticket to travel with Liam when Liam first admitted he was going to visit his parents for the holiday, Zayn practically sulking for days until Louis showed up early to the shop with a ticket in his hand and a grin on his face.  He wasn’t as bad as the world made him out to be, even if Liam knew his heart was probably two sizes smaller than the Grinch’s.

“It’s not that,” Zayn pauses, rubbing at his chin, “I’m _nervous_ , okay?  I don’t want them to hate me.  Or think I’m not good enough for you, which I know I’m not all the time.  I’m a jealous dick, I’m the guy who didn’t stop you from dropping out of Uni to manage this place, and I’m shit at doing all the great things I know your sisters’ boyfriends do for them.  I mean, honestly Liam, I’m really shit at this sometimes.”

Liam doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, staring at Zayn.  He wants to yell at Zayn, tell him he’s daft to ever think he was less than perfect to Liam.  He could think of a thousand ways to argue with Zayn, start a row that he didn’t feel like finishing.  But then he feels something settle against his heart, hot and uncontrollable, and he’s smiling at Zayn, stretching his fingers into Zayn’s hair until that worried expression clinging to Zayn’s face wavers.

“I’m shit at the romantic stuff, but you?  You’re brilliant.  You’re the bloke that gets my tea for me every day.  Who reads to me at night even though I don’t get half of the things you’re reading to me.  And you didn’t make me feel like a complete idiot for leaving Uni to manage this place,” Liam explains, his grin pushing at his cheeks.  “And I sort of like how jealous you get.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam laughs out, leaning in.  He presses a quiet kiss to Zayn’s lips, mouthing out, “It makes the sex even better.”

“Last night was pretty great, yeah?” Zayn snickers, easing another kiss to Liam’s lips.

“Brilliant,” Liam admits lowly, watching the smile shift sideways against Zayn’s mouth.  “Still have a cramp in my leg from you getting tired from riding me.”

“I’m the one with the scratch marks on my back.”

“Sorry,” Liam says with a smirk.

“Don’t be,” Zayn smiles back, his nose wrinkling with a snicker.  “I’m not.”

“Eww, _gross_.  Ni, make ‘em stop,” Louis fusses, slapping Niall’s arm until the blonde is scooting back, hands thrown up in fear.

Liam pulls back with a laugh, still dragging his fingers through Zayn’s hair.  He catches Harry sliding behind the coffee counter, lollipop between his lips which are spreading into a brilliant grin as he moves toward the sound system, turning the dial all the way to the right.  The shop is filling with music, loud and swaying, and Louis’ groaning, Niall tossing a balled up napkin at Harry while Zayn rolls his eyes.  Liam leans back with a grin, resting a hand on Zayn’s thigh as Harry leaps over the coffee bar, singing lowly – _So if by the time the bar closes and you feel like falling down. I’ll carry you home tonight._

It starts with a few customers in the comic book corner, whispered voices like they don’t really know the words but they do.  It moves to a few of the baristas, hips shaking, hands clapping out the beat on the counter.  Harry’s sliding around a few tables, shaking the shoulders of a few customers, dragging away newspapers until eyes lift and smiles are spreading over complete strangers’ faces.  Eleanor’s tapping a pen along an empty coffee mug, Niall nodding his head along while Liam taps his foot along the tile.

“We are not doing this, are we?” Louis asks, shooting each of them an incredulous look.

Zayn gives him a small shrug, smirk pushing at his lips when Harry leaps onto one of the empty tables, curls bouncing wildly as he tips his head back – _Tonight, we are young. So let’s set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun._

“He’s _your_ boyfriend,” Liam teases, kicking Louis’ shin beneath the table.

Louis’ face scrunches, head shaking.  “I should’ve never fallen for that prick.”

“Ha!” Niall barks out a laugh, tipping back in his chair and Louis’ kicks the legs from under him until Niall’s crashing to the floor, satisfied grin passing over Louis’ lips.

Harry’s leaping off the table, rushing over to Louis’ before sliding into his lap, arms curled around Louis’ shoulder until Louis’ burying his head in his hands, cheeks afire with a scarlet hue – _Carry me home tonight. Just carry me home tonight._

Zayn’s laughing into Liam’s neck, Liam fighting against his own giggle when Harry pulls Louis’ hands away, kissing at his lips until Louis’ nearly shoving him off of his lap – _So if by the time the bar closes and you feel like falling down_.  Louis’ pulling his fingers through Harry’s curls, smiling into another kiss that Niall whistles at from the floor, stretched out on his back with a grin on his lips.

Liam knows they’re getting stares from all corners of the shop but none of them seem to care.  This is their home, _his_ home.  And somewhere, when he didn’t expect it, they all decided that this little city wasn’t so bad after all.  No, it was good enough for Louis to stick around, for Niall to find his place, for Harry to be himself, for Zayn to finally fall in love, and for Liam to never regret sticking around when his parents moved away – _I’ll carry you home tonight._

Zayn lifts his head, Liam finding those hazel eyes with a smirk.

“I’m not alone,” Liam admits, pressing his forehead to Zayn’s.  “And I’m happy.”

Zayn grins at him, easing a soft kiss to Liam’s lips.

_“I love you.”_   Sage words from Zayn Malik.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this was a bit nutty, yeah? Hopefully it was good enough that you made it all the way to the end. I know it was a rather long story. Sorry :(
> 
> I really didn't know if I wanted to finish this fic because I think I've sort of worn myself out with all the fics I've written in the past two months. Like, seriously, there's only so many times you can panic over whether or not people are going to like one of your fics but I'm glad I did finish this. It was tons of fun! I might take a small break from writing though just to calm all of my worries down and maybe something new and fresh will hit me because I really do enjoy writing about Zayn and Liam. :)
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://jmcats.tumblr.com) because I know some people ask me about that in my other fics. Oh, and thank you to anyone who has ever left a comment on the other fics. I really do feel encouraged by that (and a little teary-eyed)! Okay, I'm going to go back into my hole now -- xx Jesse


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